


Morgenstern Empire

by AelinSardothian



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bondage, Clary's a top, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gay Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I should really write something other than TMI after 5 years, M/M, Straights, Why Did I Write This?, i dont know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 15:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AelinSardothian/pseuds/AelinSardothian
Summary: Sebastian is Clary's dog now, and she's training him to be her good boy. But bad boys don't get treats, especially when they caused civil war in their kingdom... and killed of their parents.





	1. Chapter 1

**So, I'm experimenting. This is probably going to be a strictly smut story, if I even decide to continue it. I wanted to do a story where Clary was dominate. Seb is turned on by power you know, at least in this and my messed up mind. But, tell me if you want me to continue. I will probably post another chapter with smutty stuff, but one chapter max if I don't hear anything from you guys if it's good.**

Clary closed the metal collar around Sebastian's neck, locking it tight so he would never be able to remove it. He was hers now and the burning, virile desire in his pitch colored eyes told her he wanted to be owned. His breathing was ragged as she ran her newly manicured nails down his cheek, the day old stubble scratching the tips of her fingers.

"You're mine now, Sebastian," she said, voice cool like that of an imperious ice queen whose word meant law. Sebastian nodded, lips parted as he watched her. "You kill only on my order, capture only on my order,  _breathe_ only on my order. Do you understand?" She questioned, fingers closing tightly around his jaw to tilt his head up more, exposing the throat she'd marked with her brand and collar.

She hadn't burned the brand in, she was not cruel as Valentine had been. She'd Marked him with a permanent rune, containing no specific power or purpose, only serving to Mark him as hers; her servant, her pet, her property—her brother.

"Yes, sister," he breathed reverently, his eyes riveted upon her face. She tightened her fingers, nails digging into his chin in reprimand. "Yes, my queen," he corrected.

She smiled; a cold, clear icicle. Her hand fell to his metal collar, his Infernal Cup that she had melted down. His vie to take the world had been looked upon sourly by her. Royals do not act in such a way. But her brother had a good thought in mind as he'd gone to try and conquer the known world. Her family only ruled a third of this planet, the only civilized and well off part of the world.

The Morgenstern Empire was prosperous; a well-oiled machine with a fair government, little to no unemployment, few and far between complaints, crimes or conflicts. The rest of the world, split into many self-governed countries and smaller, authoritarian and military controlled empires and city states, was crumbling and conflicted. They were killing off the planet, their people, their economy. Many sought the refuge of the Morgenstern Empire, and they were welcomed with open arms, as long as their backgrounds checked out.

Security procedures were simple to immigrate to the Empire. Submit your background for evaluation and if you had no malicious intentions, you were admitted into the Empire, given a decent home and presented with the latest job openings and six month leave to settle. During the six month period, you were watched and monitored closely by Imperial Military. Then, six violation-free months later, you were a citizen of the Morgenstern Empire.

Her gaze landed on her brother once more, her fingers tugging harshly at his collar to test its durability and resistance. Sebastian was not getting out of it anytime soon. Her thumb brushed his lower lip and he sucked in a sharp breath, his pupils—separated from the iris by a sliver of silver—were blown wide and filled with ecstasy. His body shuddered beneath her keen gaze as those large pupils disappeared beneath his eyelids. His breathing shook violently as he loosed a breath; his biceps bulged as he pulled against the chains binding his hands behind his back.

Her hand slipped into his snow white hair and she wrenched cruelly, forcing his head back. He growled with furious pain and tried to withdraw but she shifted her feet, driving her knee into his chest. He doubled over, gasping as she lowered herself into a crouch. She allowed him to rest his forehead on the space between her shoulder and neck as he regained his breath, her fingers still twisted in his hair.

"What you did, Sebastian, was unacceptable. And you killed innocent, imperial citizens in the process. Doing so, you forfeited your position in line for the throne. Not that you would have been king, the throne passes through the maternal bloodline as you well know. Your foolishness and recklessness is an act punishable by death," Clary mused, speaking more to the air than she was to her brother.

Sebastian took a deep, gasping breath against her shoulder, his chains rattling as he shook. She tugged softly, pensively at his shaggy locks.

"But I've decided to spare you. Mother and Father would be very disappointed in you, Jonathan," she said, using the name he despised but it was his Christian name, one that their mother had given him. Clary, on the inside, was still heartbroken that her mother and father had perished in the short war Sebastian had incited. "I'm unsure if Mother would have shown you the mercy I am but I need you, brother. You're an essential asset in the coming world war. I also admired your humility when you begged me to be spared, I know you are not a humble man, Sebastian," she said gently, smoothing her hand down the back of his neck.

"But most of all, you're my last remaining family," Clary whispered, leaning back to find her brother's eyes. There was pain there, she knew he regretted their parents' deaths, they pained him just as deeply as they did her, but he did not regret the war he started. She laid her hands on his cheeks and smiled gently.

"And you have to earn me, Sebastian," she said and her smile took on a sharper edge. "You have to prove you are worthy of my mercy. Fetch when I say fetch, crawl when I say crawl, and beg when I say beg. Our ancestors may have preordained incestuous marriages, equal marriages for us royals, but you will no longer be my equal. You've lost that right forever. One day, I might appoint you as my consort, brother, but for now you are my weapon, my black knight, my unseen dagger at my thigh. And when I allow it, you will beg me to touch you, to kiss you."

Clary rose from her crouch, Sebastian remaining on his knees like the loyal dog she was going to train him to be.

"These are the rules you will live by, will keep you warm at night if you are to keep your life and any shred of the title you once had and have foolishly forsaken. If you go against my rules, I will have you executed on the spot," she said coldly.

Though Clary had kneed him, his eyes still held lust and his breath was uneven.

"Yes, my queen," he said hoarsely.

She smiled and ran her hand along his chin. "Good boy," she murmured, allowing her tone to reflect how deeply he'd pleased her. His eyes lit like black fires at the pleased note, like a dog getting approval from its master. She called the guards in. They had been standing outside, this ritual punishment too personal for any eyes outside the imperial family. She ordered his ankle shackles binding him to the floor to be released but have his wrist shackles remain.

She stood on the balcony overlooking the lower level of the room. The double story, floor to ceiling windows looked out on one of the capitals in the Morgenstern Empire; Fairchild City, named after her mother's father's surname.

"Give me the key and you are dismissed," Clary ordered the guards. Lucian, one of her older and most loyal personal guards, handed her the key to her brother's shackles before bowing and turning on his heel to leave with his sister, Amatis, another long time personal guard.

Clary's hands closed around the wrought ironwork railing after slipping the key in her pocket, the Morgenstern initial twisted into the iron. Unlike other iron, this was smooth and the royal architects had mixed up a concoction to make it rust proof. Instead of keeping this commodity strictly to the palace, it was distributed throughout the empire to help preserve ancient sights, as their ancestors favored iron when this empire was established—most likely to keep the fey at bay—as well as to help improve older living structures throughout the land.

Her brother stood silently behind her, awaiting his orders like a good dog. He knew he was only alive by the skin of his teeth and if not for the love she bore him, he would have been drawn and quartered. Despite her icy appearance, she would have hated to order it, and the thought of having to watch it made her sick. She turned, sizing up her brother. The adamas collar now and forever locked around his throat, the Mark branding him as her servant, the piercing black eyes that begged to touch her. Good, she thought, smirking.

She stepped close to him, looking up the nine inch difference of height, not in the least bit less powerful than she had been with him on his knees, and ran her fingers up his throat and chin. He swallowed reflexively.

"You're in timeout for the time being, Sebastian," Clary said, her eyes half-lidded. Sebastian made a sound in his chest, half way between anger and arousal, two things he had no right to feel. At least in this moment. She slapped him, not hard enough to sting though, as a reprimand. "Don't disobey me, do not complain. Follow," Clary said, as a standing order and an order for him to follow now as she exited the room.

He followed, arms still bound behind him as she led him past his old chambers. His eyes widened as they descended a few levels to the dog kennels. The kennel master saw her and immediately gave her the keys with one word from her lips. She led Sebastian to the last kennel. Extra hay had been laid down for him but no bed had been provided.

"Did you not think, after starting a civil war and getting our parents killed, there would not be at least  _some_ form of punishment, Sebastian?" Clary said acidly, leaning against the kennel door. It was high enough for a Shadowhunter, more than enough room for a Shadowhunter of Sebastian's height and it was not cramped in the least. "You sleep here tonight, brother. And if you're well behaved and have shown you've learned some humility, you may sleep in your old chambers tomorrow. Understood?"

Sebastian nodded and entered the kennel, stone for three walls, iron bars for the door. Clary stood in the door frame, Sebastian's back to her for her to unlock his wrist shackles. She attached them to her weapons belt.

"Look at me and stop pouting, this is much less than you truly deserve," Clary ordered. Sebastian clenched his fists, blowing a harsh breath out of his nose before turning to face her. She took his chin and drew it down to give him a long, drugging, mind-numbing kiss. Sebastian tried to wrap his arms around her but she slapped him away, earning a growl of arousal and more insistence on his part of the kiss but Clary pulled away.

"I hope  _that_  and my rules keep you warm tonight, brother," she said and stepped back, closing and locking the kennel door. Sebastian stepped up to the door, threading his arms through the bars to rest his elbows on the cross bar. He smirked down at her.

"They will, my queen."


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian was released from the dog kennels the next morning, brought to Clary's royal chambers. A chain attached to his  _adamas_ collar—thin and silver and unbreakable—it dangled at his chest like a thread of falling from the thin ring of his iris. The guards left him standing at the foot of his sister's bed, the bedroom empty and quiet. He stood, shoulders back, relaxed and anxious for his sister to appear. He was barely able to sleep last night with the image of Clarissa closing the collar around his throat pulsing in his mind.

And he was not disappointed as she walked in, towel around her chest, drying her hair and fresh from the shower. She stopped before her vanity and brushed out her hair, placing it in a French braid, almost as though she didn't know Sebastian was there. But he knew better, she was well aware he was in the room, just chose not to acknowledge him, take away the hubris that had driven him to start the civil war.

After she finished her hair, she dropped her towel, back to Sebastian. The smooth, freckled expanse of her shoulders all the way down to her bare feet had him panting, blood coalescing in his groin until he was painfully hard. He wanted so much to slam her against a wall and take her from behind, but he would be punished for that, thrown back in those miserable kennels like a lowly animal.

So he tucked his hands behind his back and tried to remain relaxed as his sister deliberately swayed her hips as she disappeared into her closet. He knew she was taking longer than necessary on purpose. It was to torment him. He knew she was secretly furious with him for being so idiotic as to start a civil war, but mostly because that war caused the death of their parents. Sebastian had only shown them affection because his sister loved them. He couldn't tolerate them without Clarissa in the room.

When she finally emerged again, he struggled to keep his tongue in his mouth. The innocent, dress wearing little sister he'd left was gone. And in her place was a blazing, powerful, dominant woman that held his life in her hands. She could snuff it out if he misbehaved. She was queen now. And she made a darkly righteous one in her light leather armor that cupped her breasts and the gear pants that hugged her slim, toned legs.

Clary finally meandered over to her brother, looking him over with a lazy, half-lidded look. She took his chin in her hand, tilting his head back and forth as though inspecting a piece of meat. Sebastian couldn't help but purr at her roughness, it only made him harder.

"How was your night in the kennels, brother? I hope they gave you the best kibble," she mocked but it only aroused him further. He cursed himself for a masochist.

"Of course, little sister. Only the best is served at Morgenstern Palace," Sebastian replied in a gruff, low voice.

"Hmm," She tilted her head to the side, running her fingers down his throat. He swallowed compulsively at the gentle touch and his lips parted in a pant. "I'll have to ask the kennel master if you were a good boy."

"I was a good boy," Sebastian retorted indignantly, like a child, but Clary grasped his throat.

"You don't seem to be acting very good with that attitude, brother," Clary scolded, shoving him back on the bed. He fell back with a grunt, the movement stretching his pants over his painful erection. Her eyes darted to the tent between her brother's legs. "Now that looks a little painful," she said coldly. "But I don't believe I will help you with that. Go fix it yourself, I won't have my brother making a fool of himself in court today. And put on your armor, it's laid over the marble vanity."

She tugged on the silver chain falling from his collar, dragging him off the bed. She gave him a smack on the ass to spur him on. He found a suit of leather armor laid on the marble counter in his sister's bathroom. The scent of her freshly showered body still lingered in the air, it only made him harder. She still liked strawberry. But he locked the door and 'took care of his problem' before donning the light fighting gear as well as the short sword that he strapped to his waist. That was the only weapon allowed to him.

The chain pulled on his collar, pinching his skin as it caught on his armor. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his fist, glaring at the damned silver. The armor he wore was leather, stitched with silver, the crest of Morgenstern—a falling star—emblazoned on his breast. Two buckled belts crossed his stomach, a fainter, more worn black than the main piece. His arms were bared, showing him his own pale, Marked and scarred muscles while his shoulder pads rested right on the joint. The pants were just that and a few scant pieces of leather strung together to cover his femoral arteries.

He glared in the mirror, hating the degradation his sister was forcing him to. He was no dog! He was the crown prince of the Morgenstern Empire. He should already be married to his sister, be emperor consort. But he was reduced to this, being Clarissa's guard dog. He sneered before opening the door to find his sister, shooting fire through his chest with those green eyes, rendering his armor useless. And all thoughts of hatred fled, replaced with desire.

"You are going to make me late!" She seethed, snatching the chain from him to tug him out of the bathroom. The movement was so sudden he stumbled to his knees. She held the chain taut, forcing his chin up to look at her. "I should have you punished, Jonathan!" She snapped, and though she was furious, she purposely avoided the word whipped, as their father had done that to him one too many times. But there were other methods to punish.

"Yes, my queen," Sebastian breathed raggedly, finding intense pleasure in her anger. He laid his hands on his thighs as his 'problem' returned in force. His eyes closed partly as endorphins flooded his system, imagining her fucking his brains out, hard. His appeasement seemed to satisfy her, softened her face and she ran a hand down his cheek.

"Get up," Clary said gently and turned, expecting her brother to rise and follow. He did so and trailed her down the hall to the throne room, resisting the urge to pin her against a wall. Lucian and Amatis fell in on either side of their queen, carefully watching their once beloved crown prince. Clary entered the throne room and sat on her throne—the throne of the queen—and Sebastian stood at her right, slightly behind the throne. The silver chain connected to his collar draped down like a reflective waterfall to the queen's gently clenched hand on the armrest. Lucian and Amatis stood behind on either side.

Clary smiled warmly at the first woman who came in to plead her grievance. Though in normal times they were rare and scantly serious but since the civil war, more people had been coming to her. So she'd opened up citizen day twice a week for nine hours for her citizens to come and speak with her about their problems that were either caused by the war or serious enough that their province lords could not deal with..

Though Clary was cruel and callous to her brother, it was only because he'd wronged her. And he needed to be controlled. She loved and adored her empire and people, so she was kind to them. The empire was a mutual relationship. So the woman smiled back at the queen, comforted by the amiable redhead's smile. Clary asked what troubled her.

The woman replied that half of her farm had been burned in the civil war and her family was in danger of losing their trade business. Clary pursed her lips in sympathy. She tilted her head towards Sebastian, not taking her eyes or her bright smile off the woman.

"Sebastian?" Clary asked in a soothing voice.

The sound slipped over Sebastian's skin like soothing water. "Yes, my queen," Sebastian responded, staring ahead at the far wall, even as her gentle voice sent shivers over him.

"You are the cause of this woman's grievances. Get down on your knees and beg her forgiveness," Clary said and Sebastian stiffened, in more ways than one, at her command. But he didn't move, he still had his dignity. He would not bow to a lowly peasant. But Clary tugged harshly on the chain, drawing a grunt from him.

"You're already in deep enough trouble, Jonathan. Do it," she said, pulling chain down more so he was forced to bend down to allow her to whisper in his ear. "Or you go back to the kennels now," she grit through her teeth.

Sebastian slowly rose before stepping down from the dais, the chain hooked now to his belt as Clary remained on her throne. The steps were almost agonizing to him as he stopped in front of the woman. His gaze was fierce and intimidating as he towered over the smaller female but he painfully lowered himself to his knees. The woman's eyes widened as the crown prince of the empire bent his head to her.

"I sincerely apologize, my lady, for the damage and any harm I caused your family. Please accept my regrets," Sebastian deadpanned. The woman was unable to say anything, open mouthed and stunned.

Clary stood from her throne, walking over to the table where her pen, paper and royal seal were kept. Sebastian remained on his knees, head bent, not daring to move as his cheeks burned and hatred fluttered in his chest.

"We will have agriculture come out and turn over your fields to fresh dirt. We will seed and grow for you this year, as well as plant you a new orchard with trees of your choosing. You will be paid in full for the materials lost in the war," she said, writing it all down before sealing it with the imperial crest. She walked down to the woman and handed her the folded and sealed document.

"Take this to the agriculture department in the south wing and they will happily aide you. Give them your name, province, and land number." Clary smiled.

The woman haltingly thanked Clary, backing out of the room to her queen's warm smile before turning and running down the hall to where her family waited. Clary's heart soared at the sight of the woman weeping with joy, showing her family the paper.

But she turned to her brother, kneeling, eyes averted, and smiled down at him. She took up his chain as the throne room doors swung closed. She slowly drew him off the floor, up to his full height and placed her hands on his chest. She could see the anger and wounded pride in his eyes. Good, he didn't deserve any pride.

"You're my good boy, Sebastian," Clary murmured lovingly, taking his chin in her palm and pressing her lips against his. He groaned and stepped into the kiss, pressing his body against hers. Clary, though she savored his warmth, only allowed the contact for a moment before drawing back. He didn't deserve that much of a reward. So she led him back to the dais and made him stand where he'd been as the next citizen came in. Clary cycled through many problems. Some having to do with industry and trade and how Sebastian's foolery had affected them, some with families, deaths and the like. Clary compensated the economy easily, willingly, it was what would keep her country running but she could not, unfortunately, compensate for the deaths of loved ones. No one could make up for someone's life being ended.

So each time a person came in, tears in their eyes, begging some form of equalizer, as long as it was reasonable, Clary granted it and made sure to note each one of the claims and how much each had cost in her small notebook. She was well aware the fees would not greatly affect the royal coffers. Not that those really existed, it was government money that citizens willingly paid to kept their empire running, it was a people's empire. And the money Clary gave would always come back to the crown to be distributed once more.

And those teary eyed people, grieving people, broke Clary's heart and for each one, she forced Sebastian to his knees to apologize, though it couldn't possibly bring back the lost. In the moments she looked into those grieving parents' or siblings' or spouses' eyes, she hated her brother and had no qualms with making him bow to the people he'd caused so much pain. Soon the day was over and Sebastian stood still beside her throne, anger and lust churning in a conflicted, silent mess. She rose and turned to inspect her brother, to weed out the slight signs of weakness.

She saw a slight tremble in his thighs, which meant he was hard beneath his armor. Good, he deserved to be tormented thusly. His face was dead, emotionless, but he was pale and his eyes blazed with need. Either to rest, to eat, to fuck her, probably all three. She ran a hand along his jawline, stubble scratching at her palm.

"Come along, brother," she said, trailing her finger down to his chin before drawing it away and walking to the rear door of her throne room. She smiled at the sound, ever so slight, of her brother's boots hitting the floor. His lead chain remained hooked to his belt as Clary lead him down to the kitchens. Clary, having no galas or meetings tonight, took her meal to her room, leaving Sebastian with Lucian in the kitchens to take his meal. They hadn't fed him yesterday in the kennels. He hadn't had a decent meal since before he was arrested two weeks ago.

His sister had let him rot in the dungeon, fed only the barest of scraps of stale bread and putrid water. Though he knew those two weeks had been his trial period. When he'd finally been released, he was locked on his knees in the conservatory where Clary had wrapped the collar around his neck and made him her slave. In some ways, he was happy to be his sister's slave. Nothing was more arousing. Well, except for actually getting to take her innocence.

So he ate his meal of freshly baked bread, and scraps of beef in silence, feeling Lucian's burning eyes on the back of his neck. His sister, Amatis, had gone with Clary back to her chambers to eat. And that was where she sat, talking with Amatis now. She deliberately avoided talk of Sebastian, knowing it was a painful subject for her guard. Her son had been convinced to join Sebastian's army and had unfortunately been killed. Though Clary most definitely planned on expansion, she did not plan on doing it so soon after a civil war had just been waged. Wounds were still too raw.

The hour grew late and Clary dismissed Amatis to bed, so the night guards could take over and told her to say goodnight to Lucian for her. She smiled, bowed and left the room. An hour later, Sebastian was brought in and driven to his knees before he sat back on his heels.

"Cuff his hands in front, please," she asked of Lucian before he bowed and left. The thick shackles rattled quietly as Sebastian made a ditch effort to break them but he knew it wouldn't matter. Clary walked to her door and locked it, feeling Sebastian's eyes on her back then walked over to her dresser to tie her hair back with a thick silk ribbon. And now, standing just a few scant inches from him, she slowly undid the button to her jeans.

"Do you still want me, Sebastian?" She asked in a silken tone as she lowered herself onto his lap. She could practically hear his raging heartbeat, feel the tightness of his groin as she removed her jeans. He groaned and tilted devilish black eyes up at her.

"I do, so much. I never stopped, little sister," he said hoarsely but her eyes flared, hand snatching up his chain and pulling taut, making the back of Sebastian's neck ache. It was a wonderful ache that he wanted all over his body.

"What did I tell you?" Clary asked, a small bite in her voice.

"I want you, my queen," Sebastian corrected himself before shifting his hips, his hands moving forward to rest on her thighs. He hooked his fingers in her panties, getting all too eager for the submissive Clary was forcing him to be. She popped a button on her under shirt, her leather bodice still cinched around her ribs.

"Patience, Sebastian," Clary cooed, taking one of her laces to her bodice and pulling. The bow came undone and the bodice loosened, showing more of her creamy skin, but that was all Clary gave her brother. She batted his hands away and stood. Sebastian stood after her. "Uh-uh, Sebastian. Down; I did not say you could stand."

Sebastian glared indignantly at her but slowly sank back down. Clary smirked and walked over to the bed, just a few feet from Sebastian. She lay down, her profile illuminated to her brother as she spoke.

"I'm so disappointed Sebastian. You misbehaved." She sighed, knowing the action made her breasts bounce. "I will just have to start without you," she said sadly, slipping her own hand into her panties, the panties Sebastian was so eager to shred.

Clary rubbed herself, gasping at the sudden burst of pleasure as her fingers slowly stroked the sensitive spot between her thighs. She moaned quietly, drawing out the sound to torment her brother. She knew he wanted her, badly. He had since the day their parents engaged them. She heard Sebastian groan, his chains shift as his body throbbed. The redhead ignored him and continued her self-administered ministrations, shouted when she slipped three slender fingers inside herself.

She was satisfied to hear her brother whine. Yes,  _whine,_  like a puppy, for her. She paused and tilted her head to look at her pitiful mess of a sibling on the floor. The poor thing was sweating, shaking.

"What is it, Sebastian?" Clary asked, her lips pouted. "Would you like some?"

To that, Sebastian nodded vigorously. He started to get up but one look from Clary stopped him and made him remain on his knees.

"What do we say if you want something?"

Sebastian growled angrily, frustrated. The two watched each other intently before Sebastian finally cracked. "Please," he grit through his teeth, not able to voice anything more, not with how painful his erection had become.

Clary smirked. "Come then," she invited and Sebastian was on her in seconds, legs straddling her waist. She removed her hand from between her thighs and took one of Sebastian's. She led it down and tucked it in the warm, moist place where her hand had just been.

"Please me and maybe I will allow you some relief," she said, her gaze flicking down to the tight tent in his pants. Sebastian's hand immediately surged forward with all the sexual frustration he had pent up, driving two fingers into her tight body. He shuddered at the scream he elicited from her. His other hand remained flat on her stomach as he began to stroke her, his damn shackles only allowing so much room. He knew, that even though his sister was beneath him, subject to his ministrations, she was in control. She was dominant. And part of him didn't have a problem with that.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, wrenching his head down for a harsh kiss. Her teeth nipped at his lips and he savored the coppery flavor he brought from hers. She pulled back, sucking her split lip into her mouth, to lick off the rest of her blood. He seemed to be enjoying the taste too much. Her brother didn't deserve that much. She bucked her hips into his hand, eyes rolling back in her sockets as his fingers moved roughly, quickly. Her fingers traced down his spine, pulling a shudder from his bones.

The second she climaxed, she didn't allow him to wallow in the knowledge he caused it; she planted her feet on his stomach and flipped him. He landed on his back with a grunt, his pupils blown like a firework on Morgenstern Day. She straddled his raging hard on, her panties wet, almost dripping as she took his shackled hands and pinned them above his head. It was all instinctual domination from there.

Clary leaned down and bit into his neck, hard, licking the spot she'd turned violet. He moaned, low in his throat, like a wolf's growl, rumbling through her chest with a barren satisfaction. The sound hardened her nipples. She might hate her brother, but she loved him,  _longed_ from him just as much as he did her. In the days before the civil war, he'd dominated her.  _She_ was the submissive. In secret halls, he'd shove her against the walls and push up her skirts to find the lack of small clothes; just for him. And she would have to cover her mouth to avoid screaming outright as his tongue plunged into her.

But she was still a virgin, maybe not in every sense of the word, but in the basest, most barren sense. His mouth was open, gulping down air as she ground relentlessly against his cock. She pressed her sweet ache against it, biting her lip again, reopening the coppery flow of blood into her mouth.

"You were such a good boy today, Sebastian," Clary praised, leaning up to kiss his temple, lick his jaw. " _My_ good boy. And good boys get rewarded."

Sebastian let out a breathy moan at that, jerking his hips. Clary leaned up, scowling and planted a hand on his groin, right against his hardness, and shoved his hips flat against the bed. He groaned.

"Do you want to know what your reward is?" She asked, reaching up to draw the chain out from the headboard, her breasts near his face. The chain was attached to opalescent metal work, shaped into a leafy lattice headboard. She hooked the lock into the cross chain of Sebastian's shackles. His breath was ragged; Clary almost thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest. His black eyes were half lidded.

"Yes, my queen. Yes, I want to know, so badly," he croaked, his throat tight with pleasure and torture.

"I'm going to fuck you, brother," she whispered in his ear, closing the lock around his chain to keep his hands above his head.

She felt the jerk of his cock against her core as she drew back and tilted her head to the side. Her red ponytail fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and she took one end of the silk ribbon binding the crimson spill. Sebastian's eyes were riveted upon her hand as she drew it out, the bow morphing once more into the straight, long silk ribbon.

"Have you been imagining it all day?" She inquired softly, running her fingers and the silk along his jaw. He nodded slowly, inhaling deeply with a shiver. "Imagining how I'll feel wrapped around you, taking you deep into my tight, wet body," Clary said, emphasizing the last three words. He jerked, groaning as his eyes rolled back and his head flopped onto the bed.

She leaned up and kissed him, slowly, deliberately drawing at his lips as they so willingly parted for her tongue. Her hands went up and squeezed his biceps, her lips pulling away to his ear.

"Did you know I would tie up your hands? So you wouldn't be able to touch me while I ride you slow," she asked, nipping his ear. He shook his head, refusing to dash his dignity upon the rocks and speak in a hoarse voice.

"I imagine that you've wanted to pin me against a wall all day," she whispered. "Just like you used to. Lick me until I was whimpering and whining, your face buried between my thighs?"

Sebastian's lip parted in a silent moan, his muscles bulging, veins in his forearms protruding like blue vines up to his wrists. Clary slipped her hand beneath his leather armor, loosening straps along the way so her cool fingers could brush his nipple, hardening it with her chilled touch.

"But now  _I_ get to fuck  _you,_ Sebastian," she said, straightening up. "And you're going to feel so good buried inside me. Imagine that for me, brother. Me slowly sinking down onto you, moaning, slick as I take you in." She paused, her core throbbing and burning to the point of discomfort. "I'm so wet," she moaned, letting her head fall back as her hand slid beneath her panties to relieve the pressure. Her ache was pressed tightly against his arousal so her knuckles grazed him with every miniscule movement as she massaged her clit.

Sebastian's eyes opened, trickling down her upturned face, her parted lips, swollen breasts, the sliver of bare stomach to her hand buried between her legs.

" _Fuck,_ " he breathed, groaning as she ground her hips down. He squeezed his eyes shut, almost unable to bear the pressure on his erection.

"Beg me, Jonathan," she whimpered, unintentionally calling his name, her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and concentration as heat blasted between her thighs.

He felt his Christian name slide over him like the silk laying temporarily forgotten beside him. He normally hated his name but from her lips, whining and moaning as she pleasured herself, he couldn't help the shiver.

"Please," he groaned. "Clarissa, please. I beg you," he said, without humility. It was always a talent of his, whenever others would be humiliated and debased, he retained his dignity. Which is why it was so hard for Clary to find something to punish him with. But in reality—though Sebastian didn't say it—any chance of retaining his pride had been thrown out the window the second her hand slipped into her lace panties. He wasn't above begging at the moment.

She fell against him, her orgasm slicing through her like a honed blade. She let out a small whimper, hearing a deep one from Sebastian as he yearned to have a climax of his own. She pulled her hand away, placing it on his chest to push herself back up, her wild hair all flipped to one side as she stared down at him, her eyes slumberous.

"You're such a good boy," she breathed, kneeling over him to work off her panties, slide his own pants down his legs, boxers shortly following to finally free his hard on that was throbbing ruthlessly. He could feel the heat from Clary's hand on his cheek. She reached for the silk ribbon, breathless as she jerked her chin for him to lift his head. He willingly let the ribbon blind him. "But not so good as to let you see me as I fuck you, pet."

He groaned as he laid his head back down. Clary's hand lowered and wrapped around his erection. She squeezed lightly, fingernails scratching bare skin as she adjusted to sit upon his stomach, her heat burning a hole in his skin. He moaned and arched his back, wanting to force himself into her, but she squeezed to the point of pain; he whimpered.

"Down boy," she teased, wrapping her other hand around the cross belt over his chest. She tugged on it, feeling the powerful muscles over his chest. Clary shifted and slowly led him to her core, the ache brutally constant. She paused as his tip touched her. She knew it would be painful for her, but she was in control. "I'm going to ride you slow, brother, and watch you beg," she murmured, taking the tip of him in. Sebastian gasped.

"Can you feel my body around yours," she said, sliding a little further. "Wrapping you up, tightly. Can you feel how wet I am?... Are you wet for me, brother?" She asked, sliding until she hit that thin wall, that irrevocable, irreplaceable wall.

"Dripping," he replied, his voice strained, shifting his hips, wrapping his hands around the manacle chain as though it were his cock that so desperately needed friction.

She smirked, slipping a hand down to that sweet spot above her core, rubbing herself as two fingers stroked what was left bare of Sebastian's erection. He shivered as Clary pleasured herself, became slicker by the moment before she finally dropped her full weight onto him, sliding him in to the hilt. She let out a pained cry that she muffled with a hand as her innocence tore and warm blood dripped down Sebastian's length, staining her thighs, his pelvis.

"Clarissa?" Sebastian asked, sounding almost panicked. He tried to sit up but the chains stopped him.

Clary's heart wrenched at his voice but she scowled, withdrawing her hand from between her legs, three fingers bloody as she laid them on his chest armor to push him down.

"Relax," she said in an unaffected voice, glad her brother couldn't see her face. It hurt a lot worse than she'd first expected. So she stay still, adjusting but at the same time, torturing her brother. She felt him shuddering with pent up energy.

Then she moved and Sebastian  _moaned;_ loud, long and deep. It set her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his roughly, shutting up anymore words that could irritate or touch her. She'd chained him up for a reason. She rose up, almost pulling completely off before dropping herself back down, snapping against his hips with a loud slap. He groaned into her mouth.

The pain was still present but a deeper ache blossomed in the center of it. She rode him excruciatingly slow for the next few minutes, making his chains rattle and echo like gunshots as he strained against them. He tried bucking his hips but she only stopped, scolded him, biting his lip or ear or throat in reprimand. So he let her fuck him, moaning and panting and groaning himself along the way.

She fucked him like he was her possession. He was hers, irreproachably, irrevocably, irresistibly, irretrievably  _hers._  His biceps strained, started to ache just as she quickened her pace and he could feel his pelvic muscles starting to burn in need of movement. He wanted terribly to fuck back, to bounce her up and down with his hips. He also wanted to see her face change as he heard moans and whimpers escape from her lips, into his mouth as she kissed him. But the blindfold only made him harder; the chains turned him on and each time they rattled, it reminded him of how much his little sister had grown and how powerful she had become.

And he  _loved_ it.

She bit his neck, leaving an indigo and violet splotch on his skin, just below her Mark, designating him as her property. He panted heavily, chest sweating beneath the leather chest armor he still wore. But Clary relished the feel of bare skin against bare skin. Their lower halves were completely naked and she took care to rub her smooth bottom along his muscled thighs, leaning her head back in bliss as the small hairs pricked her skin.

Sebastian's mind blurred over as she planted her hands on his chest and rode him harder, faster. Her muscles tightened around him, squeezing, pleasing, torturing. And she drove herself to orgasm, shouting in euphoria as she collapsed against his chest. Her little whine, breathed out against his ear—with her blessing—threw him over the edge and he poured into her, seed mixing with blood on her thighs.

Their breath was lost to the wind for a while as they came down from their highs.

"Jonathan," she moaned, pressing her forehead against his warm neck, mindlessly brushing her nose over his smooth skin until she came back to her senses. She slowly pushed off his chest, smirking. Her hand slid to the knotted ribbon, releasing his sight to immediately scour her face and body. "You've gone and made a mess," she cooed, her panting finally ebbing into the flow of normal breath.

She smiled fondly, like a dog trainer impressed with their new canine. She slowly eased his body from hers, moans from both of them rattling the empty silence. Clary stood on shaky legs, her core throbbing and aching and pulsing with pain and pleasure and heat, and left Sebastian bare as she walked to her bathroom to shower. She used tentative hands to wash away the blood and seed, watching the red liquid filter down the drain as the steam fogged up the bathroom.

She stepped carefully out of the shower, toweled herself off before wrapping a fluffy robe around herself, lightly tying the belt around her waist. She sauntered back out into the bedroom, hair dry and braided. Sebastian was still sequestered on the bed, dripping and sweating and struggling against his bonds. She stopped at the side of the bed and leaned up to unlock the chain holding his shackles. Then he slowly sat up, pulling obnoxiously at the shackles until she released them.

"Now go clean up, messy boy," she said, smacking his ass to get him moving even though she knew he was terribly stiff and sore still. He groaned as he walked, nearly limping to the bathroom as he gently shut the door. He gimped his way to the shower and turned it frigid as he washed away the evidence that he'd finally taken his beloved's innocence. After so many years, they'd come together in one of the two only ways that mattered to him.

When he exited the bathroom, towel draped around his hips, he was met with a half-naked redhead, back towards him as she dressed in nightclothes, minus the underwear. So much for that cold shower. She half turned and saw his lusty gaze, smirked at it before turning back to her dresser.

"Go to your rooms, Sebastian. I don't want to find you wandering, now," she said in a soft, pleasant voice as she closed the drawer. "Return the towel in the morning. Goodnight, brother."


	3. Chapter 3

There was a soft tap on Clary's door, but it didn't do anything to wake her from her nightmare. It was why she hadn't allowed her brother to stay with her through the night. Well, one reason. She twisted and turned, moaning in distress even as her door slid open silently to reveal Sebastian, freshly dressed, towel in hand. He paused at the sight of her clearly distressed sleep.

But she woke before he could do anything. She woke angry, blazing eyes landing on him and boring holes into his soul.

"Did I give you permission to come here, dog?" Clary snapped, her defenses going up and growing spikes as an extra precaution. She saw how deep the derogatory term drove into her brother, though had she been anyone else, she would not have seen it. She sighed, pushing her hair from her face as she swung her legs out of bed. Sebastian didn't answer, confused. She stretched languidly before gently padding over to her brother.

Plucking the towel from his hand, she set it on her vanity before tracing light fingers along his throat, above his collar. His eyes fluttered shut, his throat working in a convulsive swallow at his sister's touch. He basked in her attention, lips parting with need as his fingers itched to touch her.

"Did you sleep well, Sebastian?" Clary inquired softly, as though cold sweat wasn't coating her body and slight tremors were only just fading weren't there.

"Yes, my queen," he replied, sounding blissed out, happy to reside in the feeling of her touch. Clary smiled, a small, peaceful smile that Sebastian could feel on his skin. Just the way her hand travelled down his throat to his chest, the waist line off his pants. He tensed as her fingers curled around his manhood, teasing it to attention without mercy. He groaned low in his throat, wanting to step forward but remained as he was, afraid of a reprimand and a withdrawal of this perfect touch.

"Did you dream of me?"

_If you only knew,_  Sebastian thought, shifting from foot to foot as she tightened her grip. He'd dreamed of her doing this to him and much worse for hours last night until he'd woken up wet from it. Sebastian could only nod. Clary smiled warmly, fingers flicking open his fly as her other hand sank into his damp, silvery locks. She rubbed the strands between her fingers almost lovingly before cupping the nape of his neck. Sebastian shivered as her light pads touched his skin. How many times had she done that when they'd kissed before? She always stroked his skin and rubbed his hair as though in meditation; an unnoticed habit, for comfort.

"Are you going to be my good boy, Sebastian?" she asked him softly, using the heel of her hand to rub him. He expelled his breath in a long, pained sigh as her touch made him harder than he had been this morning when he'd awoken. She rubbed him mercifully, relieving pressure as well as calling more blood to furiously arouse him. Her real, live touch was much better than her dream one. She must have learned something when he'd pinned her against those hidden corridor walls in the dark and guided her pale palm to his erection. While he whispered of how difficult she made it to sit through any political meetings when she bit her lip, sighing in boredom as she made her tightly, bodice bound breasts swell and draw his gaze.

He always could make her blush the color of her hair with his wicked words while he guided her hand against him, trying to get rid of the evidence of his arousal before their parents caught them. Getting her cheeks to the beautiful hue of her hair had been his favorite pastime.

"I can do nothing more than please my little sister," he groaned, knowingly quoting himself from one particularly mischievous hour. He'd had her trapped in an empty conference room, door locked, duty-free for the day, her skirts flowing around her as he chased her about, trying to catch her. He could still hear her perfect laugh when he'd caught her and pinned her against the wall, her rounded, firm bottom pressed flush against his erection.

"Hurry, big brother," she'd panted hard, her entire body shaking from the well-known anticipation of his touch. "I can't wait much longer."

"I can do nothing more than please my little sister," he'd replied wickedly and gone to his knees, lifting her skirts as he found his favorite thing of all: his little sister's bare, uncovered, unobstructed core. With a devious smile he'd pressed to her; he'd made her scream.

Clary gasped as though she were remembering the exact event her brother was. She could practically feel his mouth against her, his tongue… That thing should be bronzed. Maybe tonight she would have him put it to work. Pleased with him for bringing up such a delightful memory, she pressed her full palm against him. He sucked in his breath sharply, his hands settling on her hips as though she could support him as his legs almost gave out at the sensation.

"It seems you've already showered, Sebastian," Clary murmured. "You will have to wait for me here while I clean myself." She wrapped her fingers around him through the fabric of his boxers.

Sebastian moaned hoarsely before nodding his obedience. His sister smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. Her fingers twisted in his silky hair before nipping his lip. "Good little boy," she murmured before placing her hand on his shoulder, forcing him down to sit on the edge of the bed. He frowned at the almost imperceptible wince she gave. "Stay," Clary ordered before walking off to shower.

Sebastian sat there in silence, body throbbing in need but mind saturating with concern. His sister had only suffered a few nightmares in her life time. And only one of them had been bad enough to elicit a physical reaction. It had been about… about him dying in battle. He'd been off silencing a rebellion in the southern district and had come home a few days after, the palace dark and silent to find his betrothed tossing and turning in her bed.

He'd been so weary that night, wanting nothing more than to hold his betrothed. Stopping by his room first, he'd dropped his weapons on the floor of his closet, changing from his soldier's uniform into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt. Barefoot, he'd quietly padded to his sister's wing, though it had been the middle of the night. He hadn't cared; he'd wanted to see her.

But what he'd found was a disheveled bed, sheets tossed about and his beloved moaning in pain.

"No," she'd cried, head shaking from side to side. "No, no."

Sebastian had quickly crossed the room, about to wake her up when she'd cried out, bolting up in bed, panting. Her frantic gaze had found him, still by the bed and had immediately caught his wrist, tugging him down onto the bed.

"Don't ever leave me," she'd sobbed into his shoulder, both royals lying on their sides. He'd kissed her brow, wrapping his arms around her to draw her flush with his body. She'd responded by wrapping a leg around his waist.

"I won't ever leave you, my love," he'd murmured in response, one hand stroking her mess of red curls until he'd soothed her back into a heavy sleep.

He was drawn from his reverie as Clarissa emerged from the bathroom in a billow of steam, stark naked. That definitely did not help his hard on. As he watched her move across the room, the shadows played oddly at her left shoulder and thigh, the back of her neck. She wiggled her hips deliberately as she shimmied into sweatpants. Today was a day off, absolutely no royal duties, at least to be directly handled. Heads of state and nobility dealt with other problems and only if it were urgent and in immediate need of attention did one interrupt a royal's day. This process of course applied to the nobility, the gentry, all the way down to her citizens. It was to ensure no one was overworked.

Sebastian had forgotten.

As his sister was drawing a thin sweatshirt over her head, he stalked up behind her, determined in his self-assigned quest. She didn't turn as she spoke, working the sleeves of the sweatshirt over her wrists.

"I told you to stay," she said in a soft voice, no reprimand, as though she were too tired to scold him.

"You never specified how long, your majesty," Sebastian returned, watching her back carefully, entranced by how her toned muscles moved. She seemed to be having trouble getting the thing on. He reached out and gave a sharp tug to the back hem, drawing it all the way down to her luscious bottom. His fingers lingered of course.

"It is supposed to be a standing command," she replied softly, just a little stiffer now he'd pulled her sweatshirt down. He still towered over her. One thing that hadn't changed while he'd been away was her height.

He leaned down, mouth brushing her ear. "Your majesty knows I've never done well with authority," he murmured and was pleased to see her shiver.

"Even mine?" she dared, finally turning to him, pressing a hand to his chest to force him back a step.

"Especially yours, flower," he replied, using an endearment he'd began to call her when they were young. He'd always liked how her hair resembled a frilled tiger lily, and her freckles acted like the dots on the petals. He waited for the slap, the scowl, the reprimand, but none came. Only a sad expression crossed her face, as though she were mourning something. He pushed a little farther, lifting a hand to her cheek, cupping it in his warm palm. "What was your nightmare?"

He saw the guilt in her face for when she'd snapped at him. She'd never meant it.

"Why do you deserve to know?" she said in a weary voice, not even pulling away from his hand.

"Because I'm still your betrothed," he whispered, his fingers tracing the place just below her ear. "Because I still love you."

Her hand caught his, drawing it away from her cheek as her eyes hardened. She stepped back. "You have a funny way of showing it," she said in a flat tone. Dropping his hand, she reached up to unhook the chain connected to his collar. She set the silver length on her vanity. "You'll be training troops today but you will be monitored by other generals and guards. Report to the barracks. I'll see you for dinner." She turned and walked to her door.

"Luke," she called. The middle aged captain appeared in the door with a bow. Clarissa smiled. "Please escort his highness to the barracks, he'll be training cadets today. The general is expecting him."

Luke bowed again. "Yes, your majesty."

"Clarissa, wait," Sebastian started but was cut off with a razor sharp glare from his sister.

"I gave you orders," she snapped. "I will see you tonight," she said as she stalked out of the room. The last he saw of her was her toned back side teasing him through the loose shroud of sweatpants.

-Xxx-

Clary dozed in the large chair before the window of the library, bathing in the sun of the cold winter morning, a book open in her lap. Below the library window: the barracks, where her brother ran drills on the cadets. Half-asleep and half-awake, she knew that Sebastian was the best military commander there was, so their new volunteer troops would benefit from someone of his skill and expertise teaching them but being a civil war leader, he had to be monitored.

In her haze of sleep, she heard him shouting at a young cadet to pick up the pace or get kicked out. He was making them run laps around the courtyard. Previously, he'd been testing them on the shooting range. Only a few had escaped his reprimand. With the shouts of Sebastian came the glimpses of her nightmare. The gory deaths of her parents on the battle field she'd fought on. During the civil war, Clary, a trained warrior like her mother, had taken up a sword against her own brother. She'd fought and won as many battles as she'd lost but she'd never been able to find her brother in the fight to bring him down.

It had pained her—the thought of having to slay Sebastian in battle, even for the sake of peace—but she would have done it had it come to that. He'd thrown her country into turmoil and bloodshed for his own personal gain and he'd gotten their parents killed. Her nightmare had been that bloody day in the field. She'd been facing off a faceless rebel while her parents fought back to back with each other.

It hadn't been one of Sebastian's battles, organized and launched through his command but one of the many off shoot rebel groups that had taken her brother's motives to heart. No one had planned on the bomb. It had gone off in an explosion of red gold sparks and roars of flames. Clary had been blasted across the partial building, shrapnel buried in her shoulder as her head spun. The royal medics fighting with them had bound her to a medical cot to take her away, fearing her neck had been damaged, even as her shoulder bled out.

When she'd looked back, the smoking remains of her parents had forced her to lose her lunch, bending over the side of the stretcher she was being toted away on. That was the day she'd become queen and empress. One month ago she'd become queen and empress with a shoulder full of shrapnel. The medics had gotten all of it out and it was still healing, painful every time she moved it. She used a concealer cream to cover the raw scars and still healing wounds, especially from her brother.

He was not allowed to see her weakness, be it nightmares or injuries. Her dreams slipped over the terrible pain she'd suffered that day, twisting the spray of blood from the bodies into a terrible waterfall, spilling hot and pocked on Clary's face. The long shards of metal from both bomb and building dug into her shoulder, threatening to pierce her heart. She felt the scrap of the jagged tip pressing on the outside of her heart. She dared not breathe too hard.

When she opened her eyes to the bleary afternoon light, she knew Amatis was standing on duty behind her, watching her friend and charge carefully. Clary was covered in a thin layer of sweat; she had to peel her shirt from off her breasts. In the chaos of the past few days, she'd forgotten to take her medicine the medic had prescribed her. And now it was coming back to bite her in the ass.

Her shoulder burned and ached as she stood, slowly closing the book with her bookmark clipped onto the page. It was slow going as the achiness traveled down her spine while she made her way through the shelves. Even with the advanced medicines cutting the time of recovery down from what would have been a year at least to six months, everything still hurt. She had a check in appointment with the court medic on every other off day. Today would be one of those days.

Amatis trailed close behind her, scowling with motherly disapproval down at the twenty year old empress. Amatis saw the stiff pain building within her ruler.

"Your majesty, I suggest we hurry along to the medic's. You're starting to limp a little," Amatis said gently.

Clary, like the young girl she could have been, wouldn't admit aloud she was right. She waved a hand. "I have to check this book out from Master Starkweather first. Then we can go to the medic's," Clary said softly.

Amatis nodded her approval, satisfied she'd persuaded the young girl she'd protected since birth to take care of herself. Amatis had noticed Clary had cared less and less about her wellbeing the further out from her parents' deaths she got. And now that the prince was back, Clary, who rarely forgot anything, was forgetting to take her meds. The many scars on her empress's too young body outnumbered many of the soldiers' own scars. Did the prince not know what he had done to his sister?

Clary walked quietly through the shelves, pausing at every other shelf as an excuse to catch her breath as she leafed through books. But eventually she and Amatis emerged from the labyrinth of shelves to find Master Starkweather hunched over his desk, scribbling down notes. His workspace was cluttered with manuscripts and old tomes waiting to be copied, the odd electronic scanner lying here or there but Master Starkweather liked to work by hand, not with new 'damaging contraptions' as he liked to put it.

"Master Starkweather," Clary said politely, giving him a moment to look up from his work. When he did, his cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink as he stood.

"Your majesty! Pardon me, you'll have to excuse the clutter. What can I do for you?" Clary always noticed he talked like a bird, if birds were able to talk. Jumping from one thing to another, airy, weightless and not easily tied down. He always looked anxious to get to another thing. Clary smiled at her old tutor.

"I don't mind a bit of mess," she said as way of greeting. "But I would like to check out this book. I know you keep records of the novels that come and go and thought even an empress isn't exempt from the practice of organization."

Master Starkweather let out a breathy laugh, reminiscent of a bird's chirp as he shuffled around his desk, searching for the ledger where he kept book comings and goings. Eventually, he came up with a digital tablet and presented a neat list to her with an assortment of signatures, book names and dates.

"I just need your majesty's signature and a scan of the book you'll be borrowing," he said with a quick smile. Clary obliged, scanning the book label on the tablet so that the name printed itself out on the tablet.  _Blood Rights_ by Kristen Paint. Clary then signed her name and bid her tutor a farewell.

In the hall, her shoulder was becoming stiffer as she walked and the scar on her throat, hidden beneath her liquid miracle concealer began to itch. The place where her thigh had been flayed open a few months before twitched. It had been a week since she'd last attended physical therapy but she hadn't really needed it, due to all her activity both inside the castle and without. But, she hadn't gone out for five days and it was becoming evident in her walk.

Amatis, fed up with seeing her dear charge beginning to limp, hustled her down the hall, straight to the court medic's facilities not too far from the library. Sitting Clary down in the chair beside the medic's desk, Amatis told Alec—the medic—of Clary's ailments. Alec's piercing blue eyes watched the young empress with scolding as Amatis relayed Clary's forgetfulness in taking her medicine and failure to come to physical therapy, which of course Alec already knew about.

"Your majesty," Alec began, standing from his paperwork spread across his desk. "I cannot stress how vital to your full recovery it is to continue your medication and attending physical therapy."

Clary nodded. "I understand. I've become distracted in recent days as you may know but it is no excuse to not take care of myself," Clary said, spouting routine assurances. Her wellbeing was not the highest priority at the moment. Healing her country was.

Alec narrowed his eyes, familiar with his empress's tactics. "I'm officially placing physical therapy into your schedule, doctor's orders. The Council, I'm sure, will agree with me and will be able to handle state affairs without you for a few hours a week."

Clary sighed. "Alright, but the prince will not be privy to this knowledge. Understood?"

Both Amatis and Alec nodded.

"Alec," Clary said, garnering his specific attention. "Has the prince received a full physical evaluation yet?" The thought of Sebastian's physical state had slipped her mind the past few days. And though last night she had conducted a close physical exam, she was no doctor.

"No, your majesty. I can bring him in right now, if you wish," he said. Alec wasn't much older than her. Two years she believed, but his eyes held so much more wisdom. There were small lines around his eyes that had not been there when she was young. It was not uncommon that she had lunch with Alec and spoke with him on all matter of things. Outside his field of medicine, he was quite funny, young even, like the real world drained away his seriousness. She didn't blame him. The civil war had changed everyone in one way or another.

"After lunch, if you please. I have him drilling cadets at the moment," Clary said with a smile. She didn't let the blush work its way up her cheeks at the thought of Sebastian's bare, sweat glistening abdomen. Damn if her brother didn't have a fine body.

"Of course. I will put it in my itinerary right now. But for the moment, majesty, I'm afraid I will have to subject you to physical therapy. I can see the stiffness in your shoulder," Alec said with a secret smile.

She heaved a playful sigh. "Oh, alright."

-Xxx-

Sebastian found himself distracted as he ordered the inexperienced cadets about the drill yard. His mind kept returning to his sister, as it often did, but not in lustful thoughts or loving thoughts, but in thoughts of worry. Her nightmare. Her wince. Her shadows.

He set about pairing the cadets for hand-to-hand combat, feeling the eyes of Captain Lucian and General Lightwood on his back the whole time. The trainer's uniform he'd been issued covered up the collar around his neck, hiding his position to the empress so the cadets did not have anything to whisper over. But the possession rune still sat stark and black on the pale skin of his throat for all to see. He was no less intimidating, especially as he barked orders and criticized incorrect movements while he slid among the swinging limbs and sweating bodies, evaluating.

Why had she winced? Was she in pain? He hadn't seen any physical injury to her this morning or last night. But, to be honest, last night had been dark, hazy and pleasure driven. She'd been covered from the waist up and he'd been blinded and bound. What had her nightmare been? What had made her snap so viciously at him? He knew he was not privy to this knowledge and there was small chance he ever would be again, but he still worried. For Angel's sake, he still loved her but he had made a mistake in stirring civil unrest.

She had every right to subjugate him, and he had absolutely no objection. He  _loved_ her dominant side, but he could see pain beneath that dominant veneer. He needed to dig out what it was. Sebastian was not one to allow his betrothed let a wound fester.

Soon the drills were over and it was lunch. He was shuffled into the barracks with the rest of the cadets and the other soldiers and military leaders where the mess hall sat waiting to feed hungry mouths. He could feel heavy, hateful gazes from majors and captains, corporals and generals who had fought in the recent civil war. They all knew too well who he was. He would bet most still had fresh wounds from the war.

Cautious looks were thrown his way from those who didn't outright despise him as he strode proudly through the mess hall to get his food. The younger soldiers only looked at him with fear, knowing his reputation and what he'd done but not having fought in the war against him. They hadn't seen the devastation he'd caused.

Lunch was dull and boring, more worrying over his sister. More wondering when she'd let him see her again. When he was mostly finished, Lucian came over, looking gruff and stern. Sebastian turned in his seat with a shit eating grin on his face.

"What can I help you with, Kennelmaster? I am to go back with the dogs again?" he quipped, staring his warden down. He knew Clarissa had assigned the post of baby sitter to Lucian. It's not like he'd be allowed to wander about the castle.

Lucian growled quietly, a sneer on his face. "Still the same shit you were before you killed thousands of people."

Sebastian shrugged.

"The court medic has ordered you in for a physical evaluation," Lucian gritted through his teeth, pale blue eyes blazing as he maintained his composure. " _Now._ "

"I'm not done with my lunch yet," Sebastian said, turning back to his plate. Being yanked up by his  _adamas_ collar was an unpleasant sensation, but Sebastian spun on his warden, black eyes blazing with disdain of their own as he flung Lucian's hand away.

Lucian glared. "It wasn't a request," he growled quietly. Sebastian, a scant inch taller than Lucian, exploited the advantage, drawing himself up as he stared the man down.

"I don't take orders from nursemaids," Sebastian returned, aware the mess hall had quieted.

"You do from the empress," Lucian returned coolly, watching in satisfaction as the fire blazing in Sebastian's eyes flickered. He snarled.

"Fine."

Lucian led him out of the barracks and back into the castle as though Sebastian didn't know where he was going. But he took the degradation in stride as they entered the medic's offices. Alexander Lightwood. Court Medic. The ebony haired man stood in the examination room in a button up shirt and a scowl. Another person who disliked him. Get in line.

"Your highness," Alec said curtly. "Welcome back to the palace. Take a seat."

Lucian remained by the doorway, as though Sebastian would attack Alec or try to escape but he knew that would anger his sister. He had no care for either of these men's opinions. It was only his sister's and his sister's wrath he worried about. So Sebastian meandered over to the paper covered table and took a seat.

Alec waved lights in Sebastian's eyes, telling him to watch his finger, breath this way, open his mouth. It was all very exhaustive and boring.

"Stand and strip your uniform, your highness," Alec said, taking a step back to allow room. Rolling his eyes, Sebastian stood and yanked on the collar of his uniform shirt, tugging it over his head. He felt Alec's dark blue eyes settle on the collar around his throat, the Mark of possession Sebastian proudly bore. He'd laid one of his own on his sister long ago in a secret foray, before the war, just in a far more hidden place. Alec nodded to his pants when Sebastian paused. With a sigh, he dropped those as well, refusing to remove his boxers.

Alec ordered him to sit again as he pressed a chilled stethoscope to Sebastian's chest. Alec told him to breathe in through his nose out through his mouth, then the opposite way a few times. He stood on a scale, his weight noted and written down. Then his height was taken, like a bloody child at a checkup. Alec brought out a digital x-ray machine and took a few full body scans after taking blood pressure. All the while he scribbled notes down in Sebastian's file.

Sebastian growled when he was forced to give blood so Alec could run a routine blood panel, nearly snapped his neck when Alec had to swab his mouth. Not to mention the male exclusive exam. Feeling thoroughly poked, prodded, swabbed and examined like a common race horse, Sebastian tugged his clothing back on, glaring fire at both the men.

"Am I allowed to resume my duties now?" he spat.

A nurse knocked on the door just then and handed Alec the blood panels as well as the developed digital x-rays. Alec bent over the papers, reading through them. When he looked up, there was an odd look of respect in Alec's eyes, mixed with sympathy and pain.

"Were you aware, your highness, that you have minor pieces of shrapnel lodged in your collarbone and between your ribs?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Didn't really have court medics on the losing side of a war."

The emotion left Alec's eyes, replaced with doctoral professionalism. "Substances from the coated metal have dissolved into your blood stream, lowering your white cell count and antibodies. I need to remove foreign metal bodies as soon as possible before your antibodies become low enough that you could die from a common cold."

Sebastian sighed, feeling said shrapnel, of which he'd learned to ignore, shift beneath his skin. "And how long will that take? I have duties to attend to, assigned by the  _empress,_ " Sebastian snarled pointedly at Lucian who stiffened.

"If you would like to be anesthetized, a few hours maybe. If not, maybe an hour at most," Alec said with a shrug.

"No anesthesia," Sebastian responded. "Get it out, get it over with. Where do you need me?"

Alec jerked his head, detaching from the counter he was leaning on and leading Sebastian and Lucian down the hall to the sleek, technology loaded O.R. "Take off your shirt and lay down on the table," Alec ordered.

Sebastian begrudgingly complied, exposing his torso as he lay down on the padded, sterile table. Alec was cleaning himself and changing into scrubs while a few nurses came in to scrub his upper body clean and sterilize his collarbone and ribs. One nurse applied a cool gel over the areas and soon he lost feeling where the gel soaked in. Then a thick clip was snapped onto his forefinger and a single sticky pad with an attached wire, leading to a machine that began to beep, was placed directly over his heart.

Sebastian took a deep breath and laid his head back, closing his eyes as Alec walked in, armored in scrubs and gloves and mask. He thought of his sister to distract himself, the tiniest sensation of a pinprick slicing across his skin where the shrapnel was. He needed to see her tonight, even if he had to sneak out of his chambers and risk her wrath to see her. He needed to check on her, needed to run his hands over every little crevice and dip of her body.

A thought danced across his eyelids as another prick resounded through his skin. Clarissa had fought in the war herself. What injuries had she sustained? He knew he had his fair share, some he was still recovering from, but what of his little sister? Protectiveness rose up in his chest, the kind a brother had for his little sister, almost matching that of lover for lover. Was that her wince? Her shadows? Her nightmare?

Angel, he was stupid. Of course the war gave her nightmares, of course the war had injured her, of course the war had left scars. And it was all his fault. He winced at a sharp sucking sensation as Alec removed the first piece of shrapnel. One of many. And he was thankful they were only small pieces not terribly harmful to his being. Well, except for whatever the metal had been coated in.

Another prick.

What scars did she hide? He hadn't seen any when she'd walked out of the bathroom naked before his eyes. But there were products for that, concealers, injections, digital skins. All sorts of things that could deceive. Another feeling of suction and Sebastian hissed. Five more pieces.

Oh, he was so seeing his sister tonight. One way or another, punishment be damned. Sebastian winced again as the scalpel cut into his collarbone, digging around with tweezers to carefully extract a long, thin piece. He pried an eye open to see a nurse stitching two holes on his ribs closed while Alec worked on his collarbone. Another piece came out and landed with a ring in the metal dish. Alec stitched the long lacerations himself before moving to the final three pieces on the bottom of his ribcage.

The next prick wasn't as sharp as the others, maybe because the nurse applied more numbing gel to the area, but Sebastian was able to breathe easily as Alec fished out the last three pieces, each clinking into the metal dish. Alec then stitched up the remaining incisions and washed them all down with a scrub that burned. Alec helped him sit up as the numbness began to fade and he felt the residual pain of being cut in to. Not a pleasant feeling.

Lucian begrudgingly helped him limp out of the O.R. back to the exam room where Sebastian gratefully lay down on the paper covered table, hissing breath between his teeth. Note to self, surgery sucked. Sebastian lay quietly, waiting for whatever his babysitter planned. But they continued in silence for a while before Alec came back, changed out of his scrubs and surgical mask. He carried a small bag with him.

Sebastian didn't bother sitting up because that would have required him to use his abdominal muscles which were becoming increasingly sore. Alec didn't seem to mind as he walked over to the table and stood beside it. He pulled out a blue, child proofed bottle with a white label on it.

"These are your probiotics to boost your immune system. You're to take them twice a day. Once in the morning once at night." Another bottle, this time green, was pulled from the bag. "Antibiotics to kill the infection that has already set in. Twice a day, once in the morning, once at night but make sure you take the probiotics and antibiotics at least four hours apart." An orange bottle. "Oxycodone for the pain, one pill every six to eight hours as needed." A red bottle. "Antidote to the liquids the metal released into your body. Two pills once a day."

Alec put all the bottles back in the thin pouch and handed it to Sebastian who immediately riffled around in it for the pain killers. He'd suffered through enough unchecked pain in the war. He wouldn't suffer unnecessarily if he could help it.

"Instructions are in the bag. Luke, if you would be so kind as to make sure his highness keeps to his medication," Alec said, turning to Sebastian's babysitter. Lucian nodded. "I don't want to see him back here because he skipped meds. It seems to be a family trait," Alec muttered. He turned back to Sebastian who had just knocked back a pain killer. "Once you've recovered from the surgery, your shoulder is going to be stiff, so I'm going to schedule physical therapy for you when we come to it. As for your recovery, no strenuous activity, no combat, no overuse. Take lots of breaks, keep hydrated, don't play rough or else you'll end up tearing stitches and possibly muscle. Understand? Your  _highness_?" Alec said, clearly mocking the title. He wondered what the war had cost Alec. Why he hated him.

Sebastian nodded, sighing as the pain dulled slightly.

"Your highness is on bedrest for the remainder of the day," Lucian said, helping Sebastian off the table. Alec handed him a robe to cover up as well as the bag of meds and instructions. Stumbling slightly, Sebastian didn't protest the support as they travelled back to his wing.

The large door to his quarters fell open to reveal his simple but large entry way leading to the greeting room, and personal study and library. Other than the bed he'd left messy this morning, there was no sign the prince had moved back in. His clothes still hung untouched in the closet, the desk in the study was pristine and paperless, his laptop sitting blank and cold in the corner of it. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off. The greeting room was empty, lifeless, furniture covered in white cloth, mocking him with ghosts of the dead he was responsible for. Sebastian, head fuzzing over with the pain killers, glared at the white furniture as Lucian helped him past.

Lucian helped him through one of the open doors off the greeting room to his bedroom, where his large bed lay neat and made by the palace staff sometime after his departure this morning. But the bedside table held a lit lamp, the only sign of life in his quarters alongside the stack of old books he'd never returned to Master Starkweather. The free standing canopy over his bed had the curtains tied back and his silk sheets were turned down.

Lucian let him fall none too gently onto the bed, making Sebastian hiss in pain. Looking down his straight nose with those condemning, pale blue eyes Lucian sniffed. "I'll be posted outside your door. A nurse will come check on you every two hours." Sebastian couldn't meet his guard's eyes as he nodded, clutching his side. Lucian spun on his heel and left Sebastian to wallow in his pain.

Digging the medicine bottles out of the bag in his robe pocket, he lined them up on the bedside table beside his books, turning the labels so he could see all of them. Then he took the sheet of paper with printed instructions on it and laid that beside the rest. With difficulty, he shrugged off the robe, letting it drop to the floor as he stiffly bent to unlace his boots. Slow and painful, he tugged them off and dropped them beside the bed.

Using the nightstand for support, he stood and dropped his pants, his boxers and hobbled over to his bathroom, attached to his closet. Sebastian ran water through his hair and washed his face before he put on a comfy, loose sweatshirt and some boxers before he hobbled back to bed, picking up his tablet on his way. Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the bed and slid beneath the covers.

Flipping on the tablet, he scrolled through the room interface, remembering all the little trinkets his room was wired up with. When he tried accessing the information database, he was denied. Unsurprised the palace technician would want to keep the civil war leader out of the palace database, Sebastian flipped through some digital books before his eyes became heavy. He fingered through his music library before picking a playlist and setting the volume low.

The humming base of drums and electric base vibrated through the room from his wall speakers. Sebastian sighed as he leaned back, closing his eyes. He dropped the tablet onto the nightstand and hugged his side with one arm and cradled the other to his chest. He'd pay his sister a visit once he woke up.

-Xxx-

Clary wandered through the halls, moving with much more fluidity than this morning thanks to Alec. She carried her brother's thick medical file with her, along with her tablet that was patched into the workers' database as well as the information database, palace interface and kept her updated on the meetings of the nobility and heads of state and what all they were talking about. She usually silenced her tablet on off days because for an empress, the news never ended.

But she lazy flicked through the messages coming in to all the information pools. Amatis walked beside her as they spoke of all things from cadet training and palace gossip. Clary smiled, even as she purposefully guided herself and her guard into her brother's wing. Alec had sent her a messenger with the medical file as well as a digital copy of everything. Sebastian had had surgery and she wished to go check on him.

Though the hour was late, it was not late for a royal. On easy days, Clary was usually up well past ten, hard days, maybe she got to bed around four. It was dark, winter setting in as the colors bleached from the world, but the halls were warmly lit. Though there wasn't much noise to be had. All the nobility and politicians and ambassadors that took up residence in the palace had varying schedules, some operating mainly at night, others during the day, so it was an acknowledged rule that after dinner, the palace remain quiet for those representatives who had to sleep.

The night staff of Morgenstern Palace was also slightly calmer than the day staff. All who worked the palace at night had chosen the graveyard shifts and liked attending the night owls who resided here. But none lived here who didn't wish to. Staff quarters had their own separate wing from the palace, a completely different building so they were free to do what they wished in their quarters without disturbing anyone else, but most lived out in the city, coming in every morning or evening to start work.

Clary passed a gaggle of women, happily chatting with each other in a recently vacated conference room while they cleaned it and set it for the next group of people to use it.

"Evening, ladies," Clary said as she passed the open doorway.

The women turned with smiles on their faces as they paused in their work to curtsy as she passed and reply with discordant 'good evenings.' Clary and Amatis continued walking, Clary scrolling through this afternoon's meetings and developments. Agriculture was beginning a slow recovery after the devastation of the war. The economy was as vivacious as ever, especially the medical industry. The Council had decided to send out extra medical units to the farther regions of the empire to help with any injuries and cleanup crews were sent out to remove the damage done.

Soon, Clary had wandered straight into her brother's wing of the castle and to the door of his rooms where Luke stood guard.

"Hello Luke," Clary said brightly, giving her friend a tired smile.

"Good evening, your majesty," Luke said, returning the smile. "I thought you would have been resting after your doctor's appointment this morning," he said, giving a pointed look to his sister. Amatis shrugged,  _I can't force her to do anything._

"A ruler's work is never done," Clary sighed. "I'd just come to check on the prince." She waved the medical file slightly. "I heard he had surgery but we had dinner planned. He always could worm his way out of things but he won't be getting out of this one. If you would please have a simple dinner for two sent up to his rooms, I would appreciate it. Then you two can take off and assign some of your lackeys to take over," Clary teased. "Thank you for all your help today."

Amatis and Luke both smiled broadly at her. "Of course," Luke said. "But you should know, his highness was being a little shit earlier this morning before the appointment. Nearly caused a scene in the barracks' mess hall."

Clary sighed, rolling her eyes. "When is my brother never a little shit? Thank you for telling me, Luke." She wiggled her tablet. "I'll be online if you need me or I need you."

Luke nodded and kissed his sister's cheek. "I'll go phone our shift changes."

Luke strode down the hall and Amatis stood watch while Clary turned the knob to her brother's room. There was a nurse just leaving her brother's bedroom, carrying a bundle of dirty clothes. The nurse smiled at her as she curtsied on her way out. Around the room, furniture was still covered in white sheets, lifeless and cold. It made her scowl. She stripped the sheets from the plush couch, blankets still scattered underneath.

Clary remembered what they'd done on that couch. Sebastian always liked making her legs give out but that meant it ended. Laying down, he was able to go on and on and on. She could still see his shoulders moving beneath the thin skirt of her summer dress, feel his hot breath against her as he took his time bringing her to a slow and torturous climax.

He liked to hold her hips while she squirmed.

She shivered as she left the sheet in a pile by the door before she moved to the coffee table. His bedroom door was closed and a flash of memory went through her head. He liked to sleep with his door closed, he was shut in his own little world. And she loved sneaking in here and crawling into bed beside his warm body.

One night when she couldn't sleep, she'd snuck in here and broke into Sebastian's laptop, which now lay lifeless on the desk in his study. Someone had kept all the books dusted off, so they shone like individual little personalities. She'd gone through all his pictures, taken by the camera that sat beside the laptop. Most of them had been of her. Reading on the grassy knoll in the gardens, the sun dappling her face. Training in the courtyard, sweat dripping off her brow. Sleeping in her bed, still dressed and skirts pulled up her legs after he'd played with her.

"Mmm, Sebastian," Clary had moaned. "Come back to bed." Sebastian had laughed low and warm, and set the camera back on his bedside table. Then he'd crawled back into bed and drawn her tired little body into his. He liked to play with her hair. Run his fingers through it.

Clary ran her fingers over the polished oak surface of Sebastian's desk. She needed to go through his laptop and clean it. Clary picked it up and placed it by the door, on the table, to remind herself. She turned the knob on Sebastian's bedroom door and let it hang open silently. She padded over to the bed where her brother lay sleeping off the pain from his surgery. She set the medical file and her tablet down next to all the medicine bottles pristinely lined up in identical, color coded order. He only organized the important things, she thought with a sad smile.

Clary settled lightly on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle it too much as she turned to see Sebastian's sleeping face. His mouth was relaxed, lips slightly parted and his face was slack. His arms hugged himself, the tips of his fingers on one hand resting around the collar on his neck. She saw the possession Mark on his throat and the one on her inner thigh burned right next to her core. She still remembered him placing it there, a pre-marital promise he'd given her one night, on the very couch in his sitting room.

She'd been half asleep, drugged and blissed out on pleasure with her skirts around her waist. He'd whispered to her, asked her to let him make a promise. Clary had agreed and he'd laid the mark on her inner thigh, just where her thigh met her pelvis. She traced the mark on her brother's throat with light fingers, watched him swallow convulsively.

Her chest ached, either from therapy or something else, Clary didn't want to know. Her thumb ran over his jaw, moving her hand up into his shaggy hair. He needed a haircut, she thought as she brushed the wild waves back from his face. Her fingers brushed the warm metal of his collar, hidden within the folds of his sweater. He was hers. She went back to playing with his hair.

There was no warning sign, no signal that Sebastian had woken. So his deep, croaky voice startled her. "When were you going to tell me you were injured?"

Clary sighed, watching him turn his head into her palm. She didn't withdraw her hand and Sebastian didn't open his eyes. "Seeing as you started a war you knew I would fight in, I saw no reason to tell you," she replied, twirling a silvery lock around her finger even as his hot lips touched her skin. His eyebrows were furrowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her palm. "I never meant for you to get hurt." His deep black eyes opened, the ring of silver separating iris from pupil glistening in the lamp light. "You have to know I never wanted you to get hurt."

"I know," Clary said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "But you shouldn't have started it in the first place," she whispered. She stood before Sebastian could respond, leaving him open mouthed on the bed, face swimming in pain. Clary picked up one of his medicine bottles. Orange bottle, white label. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?" she said, setting the bottle back down and picking up the blue one. Now she understood why Alec had assigned nurses to check on him every few hours. Sebastian was never good with remembering to take meds.

She wondered absently if Alec would assign a nurse to her to make sure she took her medicine. She wouldn't put it past her friend.

Sebastian's voice came out of the darkness, quiet, a mere thread of sound. "Will you—will you tell me how they died?"

Clary set the red bottle down heavily with a  _thunk_  on the table, her back turned to her brother. The shadows flickered across her face. "Do you not know?" Clary said in a thread like voice. "The general of the civil war, the Fallen Star, with his informants and spies and warriors. How could you not know what happened to them?" Her voice had turned bitter.

"I didn't want to grieve," was his only response.

Clary's eyes flicked up to the framed photo hanging on Sebastian's wall, one of the only adornments in his room. It was a photo of her and Sebastian. Not a royal portrait, not a picture of them dressed in finery as they'd been made to sit for many times. Clary was in a baby blue sundress, her messy hair windblown and chaotic, his no better. They'd been on the coast, visiting family and the ocean salt had caught in their hair, dotted their faces from the ocean spray so their kisses tasted like tears. He was wearing a loose, partially unbuttoned shirt to match her sleeveless dress.

They were both grinning into Sebastian's camera, which he held up to take the photo. The photo beside it showed just a moment after. The edges of the picture were blurry with motion but she could still clearly see the two of them kissing, Clary's palms cupping his cheeks while his other arm held her waist. She still remembered the taste of salt. A shuddery breath rattled through her lungs.

"A bomb." She reached up to trace the edge of their kiss. "It was a rebel battle, you weren't there. We were fighting in an abandoned construction sight when a bomb went off right beneath their feet." She flinched at the memory of their charred remains. "I was only a few feet away when it went off. Others were killed, more injured. Loose metal went flying everywhere."

Clary's eyes glazed over as the sound of the bomb echoed in her head. "There was no fire afterward. No secondary explosion. Just the one. I think they meant to kill me too. I'd just stepped out of range when it went off, like I'd just slipped from their grasp. I didn't hear any screams," she whispered. "The next thing I knew, Alec was digging shrapnel out of my shoulder and someone was putting the crown on my head."

She turned sharply, looking every inch the regal queen and empress. "But it was justified, right?" she said bitterly, watching Sebastian with lethal intensity. He winced. "It was worth their deaths for your little play time. It was justified because you thought Dad imposed the wrong laws? The old fool might have been wrong in reinstituting slavery and church tithes, but was it really cause enough for you to tear this empire apart? He was still our father! You could have taken the problem to the Council! Or even Mom! You could have talked with the nobility! The state heads! The Emperor himself!

"But you had to stir a pot that had begun to boil! Your mess has cost hundreds of thousands of lives! Billions of dollars of damage! You've weakened this entire empire to those power hungry dogs waiting on our borders and have endangered every single citizen in this realm. And yet I've allowed you to come crawling back like a dog to lick your wounds in the lap of luxury! I should've thrown you back in the dungeons and had you executed!" she snarled.

"But no, I convinced the Council that you were worth more alive than dead. I convinced them that this empire would be even weaker without its prince, without your military experience, without your knowledge, without your wisdom and expertise. You should be down on your knees begging for forgiveness from me instead of acting like an insolent brat throwing a tantrum in the barracks," she seethed, stalking closer to the bed where Sebastian lay, panting heavily, pain written on his face.

"You should be begging me to even let you breathe because I  _own_ you. You owe me everything. Your life, your comfort, your obedience, your service, your mind, your body, your title. Without me, every single member of this palace, this entire city, would see you dead had I not told them you were worth something more than the dirt in the grooves of my boots."

Sebastian was sweating, little beads of moisture rolling down his forehead as he watched her in utter anguish. His teeth were clenched tightly, his fists white knuckled, body trembling.

"Clare," he croaked hoarsely. "I'm so sorry. I don't have an excuse for hurting you," he said, his voice strained and desperate. "I don't have a response. I'm so sorry." Her eyes darted to one of his fists, clutching his side. His stitches. She stepped closer and flung his hand away, tugging up his sweatshirt to make sure they hadn't torn. Thankfully, they were still intact, surrounded by blue and black bruises. His breathing became labored and she could tell he was hurting, physically and mentally. His eyes squeezed shut and she wiped away the trail of liquid that spilled from the corners with her thumbs.

He'd never liked tears.

There was a knock at the outer door and Clary stood to retrieve the dinner tray she'd requested. She noted Luke and Amatis had left, replaced with Wayland and Highsmith, the daughters of two high ranking military officers. She nodded to them and shut the door firmly after telling them to not disturb her. She brought the tray back into Sebastian's bedroom where she found him writhing in agony on the bed.

She set the tray down and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hands framed his face as she forced him to look at her. His chest still heaved as she leaned in to kiss him gently. Her thumbs flicked over his cheekbones as he stopped breathing, caught up in the sudden sensation of her lips. One hand wound its way into her curls and he moaned, pain and pleasure melting together. Once his breathing had calmed slightly, she pulled back, still swiping her thumbs over his cheekbones.

"Shh, Seb," she soothed, pressing her forehead to his as her eyes fluttered shut. "I'm here. Calm down." She ran a hand through his thick hair, calming him further. He was probably only this distraught because of the pain and drugs he was pumped full of. "I'm here," she whispered, cupping the back of his neck. His body still shook with pain as she leaned over to grab the orange bottle of pain killers. She popped the cap and doled out one large pill, grabbing the glass of water from the food tray. "Take this, it will make you feel better," she said, offering the medication to her brother who took it and knocked it back.

She pushed the hair out of his eyes as he watched her with a pained expression. "I'm so sorry, Clare," he whispered, cupping her cheek with a rough palm.

She nodded. "I know."

They sat there for a long while, Clary waiting for his breathing to calm while Sebastian was content just to watch her. After a while, Clary offered a weak smile. "Thought you could skip out on dinner, did you?" she teased, reaching over to hand him his plate of food, a matching bowl of fettucine to hers.

Sebastian returned a tired smile, tension drained with the aroma of food and the new influx of pain killers, before he started eating cautiously, careful of his injury. Clary took her own bowl and drink and crossed the bed to sit on Sebastian's other side. The castle was quieter now, the night owls roaming around in their meetings and midnight rendezvouses, as she took her brother's tablet and flicked on the television to an old movie they both loved. They ate quietly, watching the movie to forget the pain and anger and regret for a moment.

Clary set their bowls aside once they were finished and shut off the television. She kneeled up and settled herself in Sebastian's lap. His hands immediately wandered up her thighs to her hips, fingers expertly finding the seam between her shirt and her pants. She leaned close so Sebastian could feel her breath on his cheek.

"Are you feeling better?" she whispered, hands slipping down his front, careful of the stitches.

The heated glaze on Sebastian's eyes told her that the narcotic was in full affect as he nodded. "Good, pet," she murmured, fingers finding the opening in his boxer and slipping through, beginning a slow rub to tease him to attention. "Now, seeing as how you managed to get all cut up, you're going to put those idle hands of yours to use. Understand?" she said, sultry gaze holding his. He was becoming harder beneath her fingertips. Another nod. She withdrew her hands from his boxers, to which he whined a small protest but was ultimately quiet as she took one of his hands and led it over her stomach and down into her sweats.

His fingers were cool to the touch, slightly shocking as his fingertips found the excitable bundle of nerves. Sebastian began a rub of his own. One finger. Slow, methodical circles. In reward, though the heat was only just beginning to build due to his cold fingers, she leaned forward and kissed him, parting his fettucine flavored lips. He moaned, leaning back in the pillows as he continued his set task. Clary bucked her hips at the first sensation of pleasure, the first little shot rocketing through her hips.

She let out a gasp of breath, grinding her hips down on his hand, urging him to press harder as the heat built and warmed his cool fingers. Sebastian groaned into the kiss, blissfully content to be ordered around in pleasure by his ruler. His finger moved slightly faster, tracing circles around the delicate skin as Clary pressed her tongue into his mouth, drawing and teasing at him while her hands came up to cup the back of his neck.

Her thighs quivered as Sebastian pressed harder, went faster. Clary moaned at the sensation, stunned for a moment as she let Sebastian take control of the kiss. He seemed frustrated by the fact that his other arm lay limp between them, unable to move with causing him pain. But he forged on, adding a second finger to the mix as he massaged her clitoris, pushing her up the glorious mountain of pleasure. Another spike, another wave and she was thrusting her hips against his hand, the pleasure shooting up her spine and making her shiver.

"Jonathan," she moaned against his lips, eyes squeezed shut as she moved her hips back and forth in an attempt to push herself over. His chest heaved with emotion, heart beating an erratic pattern in his breast. Clary splayed her hand gently over his heart, forehead pressed to his as she watched his hand move. She let her hand slide down to the hem of his sweater, tracing delicate lines up his abdomen, careful as the tips cautiously avoided his stitches.

She watched inch after beautiful inch of pale, scarred skin reveal itself as her wrist brought up his sweater. Her chest constricted, making her pause in her lazy path. Her lips formed a shocked 'o' as Sebastian rubbed her just right. She had to close her eyes and sigh, fist curling against his chest while her other hand buried itself deep in his curls and gave a sharp tug.

"Keep going," she demanded breathlessly, legs shaking as he continued. He leaned forward and boldly took her lips, desperate for the touch, the contact as his hand grew from warm to hot with her heat. Lazy circles turned to harsh jagged lines as Sebastian went faster at her demand. She let him kiss her, let him drown himself in her as she let herself dip her toes into the endless ocean that was her brother. He was very dangerous if one went too far from the shore.

Her lips pulled away from Sebastian's as he finally pushed her into climax, her muscles twitching and clenching as she pressed her cheek to his, body stilling. Her eyebrows furrowed as she fell into the vibrations, the drug sweeping up her body to cloud her head. Her fingers clenched in her brother's hair, breasts pressed flushed against his chest.

"Take it off, Clare. Take it off, please," Sebastian begged frantically, fingers twitching at the hem of his boxers, wincing as he tried to move his injured arm. One of her hands caught the wrist of his injured arm and pinned it to the mattress to prevent him from hurting himself or tearing stitches as she dragged him back into a long, breathless kiss, as if he had any breath to spare. Pressing him back into the pillows, Clary sat back on his thighs, fingers working to the band of his boxers.

Slowly, torturously so, she wriggled the underwear down Sebastian's waist, then his thighs, then his knees, then his ankles and finally his feet. She let the fabric whisper to the floor beside the bed. She sat back on his shins, staring at his rock hard erection before her, a devilish gleam in her glazed eyes. Sebastian was panting with the effort of not being able to move and as his good arm reached down to relieve what had to be painful pressure, Clary caught it and tangled her fingers with his.

"My  _queen_ ," he begged, trying his best to be suppliant but his hips wriggled in such a way that she was intrigued.

"I'm curious, Sebastian," Clary mused quietly, her other hand releasing his injured wrist to graze over his hard on. "What you would taste like." The comment looked to almost shove him over into orgasm, his eyes hooded and glassy as he stared at her with his swollen lips parted slightly. "I've heard from others that their men taste like salt," she said quietly, eyes flicking between his face and the thatch of silvery curls and what lay nestled in the center. Well, more like towered in the center. Her thumb grazed over the top. "Will you taste like salt?" she questioned, genuinely curious. She'd never given him this, even before.

She leaned down and blew a hot breath over the tip, delighted when he jumped. "I never knew you were so sensitive, brother," Clary teased, thumb spinning circles on the back of his hand as her other hand circled the base of his erection. She was skilled in giving him hand jobs but never her mouth. To be honest she'd been scared before and then hadn't wanted to try it, but now…

She gave a slow, long lick from hilt to tip, watching him shudder with every moment. " _Fuck!"_  Sebastian moaned, head hitting the headboard with a  _thud._ Her hand slipped from his, now that she'd secured his attention, and braced on his hip as she took him into her mouth. He was warm and getting wetter with each swipe of her tongue. His uninjured hand crept into her hair, held on to her as his hips bucked once but she pushed down on his hip in reprimand. He settled.

She let her teeth graze, tongue meander as she drew out his torture. He had to bite his lip from screaming as she bit him. She saw the narcotic still had him in its clutches when she looked up to see those glassy black eyes. He was panting heavily, hand still buried in her hair as hers held down his good wrist and his hip. His abdominal muscles clenched magnificently, his upper thighs, and she pulled back just as he orgasmed, making a mess of his sweatshirt.

Her poor brother lay spent, sated and limp on the bed, done as quickly as a virgin, as his panting sounded beautiful music to her ears. She released his hip and wrist before climbing back up his body. His stitches probably ached. Clary laid a kiss on his sweaty brow, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth and finally his lips. He whimpered into the kiss, good hand limply coming to rest on her waist as she took the last of his breath.

"You've gone and made a mess, Sebastian," she teased, kissing him again, giving him that fulfillment she saw he craved in his eyes.

"Thank the angel you're here to put me back to together," he murmured, and she could tell the drugs were working hard. She smiled softly, placing a real, long, languorous kiss on his plush lips, filled with her love for him.

"Thank the angel I am," she replied and gently worked his sweatshirt up his sore torso. He groaned, a moan here or there as she managed to get both arms out and drop the sweatshirt aside. She had to sit back and admire his physical physique, surprised that she noticed this was the first time she'd ever seen him completely naked. Granted she'd seen everything before but only in bits and pieces. Seeing it all in one picture was enough to make her wet all over again.

Her fingers reached out to trace the dipping lines of his abdomen, watched as the aching muscles clenched before her fingertips. She traced his navel, watching goosebumps rise at her touch. She loved how responsive he was to her, she'd never gotten to play with him before. He'd always played with her, ruled her. It was her turn now. She slid off the bed and hooked her thumbs in the top of her sweats.

"Sebastian," she said, coaxing his lazy gaze over to her. "Watch me, pet," she said and slowly began wriggling out of her pants, slipping them down her legs and knees, letting them fall to the floor. Clary hadn't felt like wearing underwear. Her brother stared, slack jawed as she crossed her arms over her stomach and tugged her shirt up and over her head. She hadn't felt like wearing a bra either.

Now she was completely naked and she registered this was one of the first times he'd seen such a thing. It had only been recently, when she'd gotten done with a shower, that he'd seen her fully naked. Now the lamp light flickered over the soft curves of her hips and thighs, fell across her flat stomach and round breasts as she swung her leg back over Sebastian's.

"You've had a long day, pet," Clary murmured, beginning to slowly rub herself against the center of his body. His fingers twitched. So did his cock. "I'm going to make love with you, Jonathan," she whispered, body vibrating. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck and the forearm of his injured arm bent to rest his hand on her bent knee. The kiss was slow and lovely and everything beautiful that still existed between the two siblings.

It was not like before, where it was an ecstatically obeyed order. It was slow and sweet in the coming. It was what their love should have been before the war. She circled her hips back and forth, patient as he recovered from his previous orgasm. In the meantime, she started an ache in her own body while she drew lovingly at his lips. Sebastian, shot up with drugs as he was, felt the immediate change in atmosphere. He slid his good arm slowly around her waist, arching her back into him as his lips parted beneath hers, fingers tracing circles on her thigh.

He tilted his chin up, asking for just a little more, and, carefully, Clary laid her body flush with his, reveling in the heat radiating from his skin. She pressed her lips a little more insistently and let Sebastian press his tongue into her mouth. The incessant rubbing of her hips paid off as she slowly felt him begin to harden. He moaned softly and, as his lower body was fully intact, raised his hips to help the growing burn in her core, help himself harden faster.

One of her hands came up to cup his cheek, stubbly with a day or so's growth, and caressed his cheekbone with a gentle thumb. His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer, making her breasts throb with the pressure. Now the tip of him pressed eagerly against her core. She felt his pulse throbbing between her legs, just as hers mimicked his. The hand on her thigh slipped to the inside of her knee and pushed, widening her legs as his hips moved upward.

She paused their kiss, smiling against his lips as her other hand slipped between their bodies and wrapped around his newly appeared erection. She massaged his shaft for a moment, listening to his sounds and kissing them off his swollen lips, before guiding him into her. She left herself slowly sink down onto him and once she hit the hilt, they both let out a glorious moan that echoed between them, rattling in her chest.

She went back to kissing him, getting lost in his mouth and his body, his arm tight around her as their hips rolled together. Willingly, tiredly, she let her dominant role slip as began to drown in perfect bliss. It was slow, unhurried, perfect in Clary's opinion as soft waves of pleasure broke against her body and shuddered through her limbs. Sebastian didn't seem to mind just kissing her. He let his hand slide from her waist to her bottom, his palm flush against soft skin as he squeezed. In response, Clary flowed forward, withdrawing only slightly from his body before sliding back down his chest to take him back in.

There was nothing except the two of them, and Angel, Clary was so tired. Her body ached, not just from the sex. From the war, from her injuries, from physical therapy, from having to sit on that stiff backed throne for hours on end. She didn't know how her mother had done it for decades. But most of all, her heart ached for her brother, betrayed and left shattered. The young girl, years away from inheriting a crown and an empire, was gone. She'd had to grow up too fast because Sebastian had betrayed her and left her heart shattered on the floor. She'd spent months gluing it back together and now it resided in a gilded cage inside her chest, each beat a painful reminder of what she was responsible for.

She couldn't help it, she'd said it before but the words hadn't dared surface for over a year. She couldn't stop them. "I love you, Jonathan," she murmured against his lips.

He inhaled sharply, kissing her a little harder as his hips surged upward. She squeaked, jolting against him before they settled back into their slow rhythm.

"I love you so much, my Clarissa Adele," he replied with a cracked voice, eyebrows furrowed as he dove back into their kiss like a man desperate to drown. She reached up and smoothed the lines between his perfect silver eyebrows before pulling back. He leaned his head back in the pillows, stitched collarbone and neck probably sore from having the lean up kissing her, as she trailed hot, soft kisses down his throat. She kissed the hollow of his throat before kissing his chin. He made a satisfied noise when she nipped gently.

Their hips moved just a bit faster, urged on by the spark of deep seated pleasure rumbling through both of them. His lips parted as a moan fell from hers planted on his chest. The shock of pleasure was strong and deep, rocking her body as she pushed out a long breath against Sebastian's chest. A short moan escaped her lips as Sebastian braced his feet on the bed, arm still braced across her back, and bucked up.

She could feel him growing tighter, closer to climax as her own pleasure built but she continued her lazy path of kisses across his chest, noting every new scar she didn't recognize. In the mood a marks as well, Sebastian's hand not on her waist slid up her thigh, his arm straining so he could just reach his mark of possession on her with the tips of his fingers as their hips moved. Her hand fell to her own mark on his throat, pausing in her kisses to look up at his thrown back head. The long expanse of his neck was bared to her, the collar glinting in the dim light like stars. Goosebumps rose from where her fingers traced a similar pattern over the Mark as Sebastian was drawing on her thigh.

She felt his arm tremble though, with the pain and effort from the stitches and dropped her hand from his neck to gently coax his hand back down to the mattress. As incentive to stay there, she wrapped her fingers with his. Her orgasm was sharp, long and drove deep into her body as she cried out. Her mouth was against Sebastian's good shoulder as she moaned. His hips became a bit clumsy as he pushed himself into that sea with her. Warmth filled her even as Sebastian's body shuddered and he moaned his pleasure and pain.

Her entire body quivered as she rode out the diamond sharp orgasm and she pressed into the raging heat that was her brother. His hand clenched in hers and his other squeezed her backside tightly.

"Clare," he moaned, arching his graceful back into her as his body withdrew from her.

"Jonathan," she returned in a weak, breathy whimper. Clary leaned up and kissed him again, harshly, fiercely, staking her claim and her love. Even if he was a pain in the ass.

He gave back with just as much fervor, his arm ever tightening on her waist until she knew there would be bruises on her hips from his fingers. She used to love being marked all over by him. Finally, out of breath, she pulled back and oh so slowly rolled off of him. She leaned over and kissed his shoulder as she drew the covers up over them. As she lay down, he turned his face towards hers in the pillows. He gave her a sleepy smile the she returned with a light peck on his lips. He fell asleep with his good arm wrapped around her waist, Clary tucked into his side and her thumb drawing pictures on his cheek.

For now, she just let her royal stature and grief and responsibility go and became the lovesick princess she'd been, lying in the arms of her prince, freshly ravished and sated. She in turn fell asleep with her hand lying against his chest. The lamp flickered uncertainly for a moment after the royal residents had fallen asleep, throwing shadows of distorted medicine bottles and sleeping princes and princesses against the wall before finally flicking off with the timer. The room was left in peaceful, pleasure-saturated darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Clary lazily reached out to hit the buzzer on her alarm clock, shutting off the annoying noise. But her fingers brushed over a cool tablet screen instead on the smooth glass of her glass. She blearily focused her sleep caked eyes, trying to place the ceiling she was staring at. It was a freestanding bed canopy, the slight rim bordering hiding from any other non-vertical eye the elaborate painting plastered on the ceiling of it.

Clary remembered painting that, the complex star system of the Milky Way over their head. There were clouds painted in, backlit by the brightly shining moon. It had taken her weeks of neck and back aches to paint that star system for her beautiful brother. But the aches had been worth it, especially when Sebastian sauntered in after practicing in the yard to find her standing on his bed, skirts short and hiked up, face paint splattered.

He would always wrap his arms about her legs and pick her up, setting her on the floor. He liked to greet her with a long kiss that tasted of salt and Sebastian. Then he would teasingly push the straps of her dress from her arms and unlace her corset to her waist. With her back and shoulders bare, hair already pinned up away from her face, he would lay her face first on the bed and work his strong thumbs and fingers into her muscles, massaging away the soreness.

She smiled faintly at the memory of those weeks before briefly wondering why Sebastian's canopy was over her bed. But then of course she had slept in Sebastian's bed, after having sex with her poor sedated brother. With a happy sigh, she turned her head to find him still passed out, still naked and still stunningly heart breaking. His lips were parted and she resisted the urge to kiss them, instead sitting up in bed to look around the dimly lit room. The timed lights had flicked on about two hours ago according to the clock on her brother's nightstand and were left on dusk setting so not to wake the occupants of the bed.

Mindlessly pushing away Sebastian's hair from his forehead, she gave her brother a once over, more to make sure his stitches hadn't torn in the night or from their various activities previous. But they were all pristine and intact, so Clary decided it was time for her to get to her duties, seeing as she was already an hour behind schedule.

She slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, quickly finishing her morning routine surrounded by her brother's personal affects. It was nice to be in here again, after having his room locked up and shut away for so long. It evoked many pleasant memories, though now they were tinged with a hint of bitterness.

Clary walked naked into the bedroom, intending to search for her clothing but what she came upon was a pair of stunningly clear black eyes. A pair that was tinged with a little repressed pain.

"My queen," Sebastian breathed tiredly, giving her a slow but charming smile. Clary couldn't help but return it as she walked over to partake in a kiss.

"Good morning, sleepy," she purred against his lips. He smiled and nipped her. She didn't feel like reprimanding him. His hand brushed over her hip as she straightened, a little groan escaping his lips as he heavily set his arm back on the bed. She glanced at the instructions on the nightstand and grabbed the according pills for pain. Briefly, she went to fill a cup of water in the bathroom before pressing the little pills into his good hand.

"Drink," she commanded, gesturing to the four pills and the water.

Sebastian begrudgingly downed the pills and drank the water with Clary's help. Grimacing, he fell back on the bed, his eyes wandering over her body, which was still naked. They stilled on her shoulder, where the ugly scar from the shrapnel lay. Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

"Where did you get that?"

Clary raised an eyebrow. "You're in no position to be asking, princeling," she retorted, pulling on her clothes from last night.

"I'm still your brother, I still care about you. That gives me some substantiated position," he replied.

"And your 'substantiated position' was compromised by yourself the minute you ran one of my citizens through," Clary said, turning back to find him struggling to sit up in bed. She crossed to him, of the mind to force him back down, but he was already up, eyes glassy once again as his meds took effect. "Sebastian," she began but he was struggling to get out of bed, his large frame shuddering as Clary could do nothing to stop his swaying body from nearly toppling onto her. The color drained from his face as the effort of keeping his heavily muscled body upright.

"I need to see," he said hoarsely, hands fumbling for her shoulder. She slapped his hand away and took a step back.

"Guards!" she cried out. The two from last night, Wayland and Highsmith, burst in, weapons bristling. Sebastian's eyes, though unfocused, were crossed with hurt and confusion. "Go retrieve Doctor Lightwood. The prince is to be checked for health, then I want him sedated and restrained. His tendency towards idiocy is detrimental to his recovery. One nurse on duty, four guards and no one comes or goes other than myself and Doctor Lightwood, is that understood?"

The two guards paid a quick obeisance and affirmation before Wayland stepped into the other room to call Alec and reinforcements. They all knew, drugged through he was, Sebastian would not be restrained easily. Clary waited for the guards to file in, Alec following them. Clary stayed for the brief examination of Sebastian by Alec. Her friend glanced at her, the silver gleam of a needle standing out and she stepped forward.

Sebastian was looking warily at the guards and at Alec but when she grabbed his chin and kissed him roughly. Alec took the quick opportunity to slip the needle into the crook of Sebastian's arm and administer the sedative. The guards rushed forward as Sebastian began to lose consciousness. They lowered him to the bed and set up the cuff strap, locking Sebastian's wrists down. His head lolled back and forth on the pillow. Clary kissed his forehead, nodded to the guards and left. She wrapped her shawl tighter about her shoulders.

-Xxx-

Floating. He was weightless. And tortured by the scent of red hair and soft skin. There were screams echoing in his head, back and forth and battering the walls of his head. Deep red and thick blue swirled in a myriad of pain. Little spheres of ache permeating the space he was suspended in. Which was an ugly quagmire of aberration. There was a spark of light on occasion and then pitch darkness for more. Wisps of voices then shattering explosions of umber and maroon and terror.

Then there was a fierce seizing in his chest and the drug was swept from his system with the succeeding adrenaline. The bed creaked as he strained to turn sideways and empty his stomach. The smell was revolting, the sight was embarrassing. Especially since there was a female nurse just entering the room with fresh bedsheets. But she had to grace to not look startled, just let her shoulders sag as she looked at the mess with exasperation.

Well trained, the palace servants knew discretion and efficiency. This nurse was no different. She cleaned the mess, wiped his face and departed. Most likely to call Lightwood. Sebastian lay back against the cushions and moved to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Only to find that his wrists were restrained by soft, Velcro cuffs.

"Clarissa!" he shouted. And shouted again. And again. And again. Until his voice was hoarse and someone was shoving a gag in his mouth. He moaned and panted, caught up in his need to see his sister. He'd done so much wrong. He'd hurt her so much. Scarred her. He moaned through the gag, eyelids fluttering as the tall figure of Alexander Lightwood leaning over him. The image swam in and out and around focus.

"…caught…febrile… need to clean him… don't disturb… majesty… more nurses…"

Sebastian's ears were ringing, blotting out the sounds but he moaned again for his sister. Muffled, his thoughts, the sounds, his pain. All he could think of was the harm he'd done to Clarissa. He hadn't allowed any thoughts of pains or consequences sully his concentration when he led his armies on the field, but now, restrained with nothing else to think of, he was drowning in the guilt of it. The fact he was feeling guilt was almost more painful than the process of moving, which the nurses were doing after removing the cuffs.

But he couldn't get the notion out of his head, couldn't straighten his body or vision to seek her out. Right his wrongs. He'd never be able to right his wrongs. Never wanted to, only to Clare. Cool tile pressed up against his cheek as the nurses used the wall as a support to wash him down. They had covered his stitches with waterproof seals but that made the shower no less painful, but at least it was quicker than a bath. And if he wasn't mistaken, these females had just as much anger towards him as the rest of the castle because though they were instructed to care for him, no one had apparently specified how gentle they needed to be.

After, his skin was tingling and they removed his gag to have him rinse. Then Alexander was back, shoving more meds down his throat and sticking another needle in his arm. Cool liquid rushed up his arm and settled through his body. Dragged back into the dark, febrile quagmire of watching his parents die, of watching Clarissa bleed out on a battle field. All because of him.

-Xxx-

Clary wiped at the corners of her eyes, washing away whatever liquid had been there. It wasn't the physical therapy that had caused those tears, but she wasn't about to admit that to Alec as he stretched her arm.

"You don't have to wipe those away, Your Majesty. There's no one but me to see here," Alec said, his thumbs gently rubbing the sore muscles at her shoulder joint.

"What are you talking about?" Clary responded, taking a deep breath before picking up two five pound weights, slowly reintroducing her damaged muscles to physical activity. Before Alec could continue, "I don't understand why I have to be here. I need to be attending the complaints. I'm departing for the relief campaign tonight."

"And I will be accompanying you," Alec said sagely, as though this were already decided. "I know you would not continue your treatment if left alone."

Clary sighed but didn't deny this fact. "I need to be making preparations. I haven't even decided what I'm going to do with Sebastian yet."

"Leave him." There was more to those words than Alec had said.  _In the kennels. In a ditch. For dead._

"I have no doubt that if I leave this palace, Sebastian would have an 'accident' in the middle of the night. And no one would be too inclined to stop it. Especially in his condition," Clary said broodingly. She stared out the windows across the garden, where her citizens happily came and went, enjoying the new open grounds policy. Clary was quite happy with it.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but why did you save him in the first place?" Alec bent her arm in at the elbow joint, having her mirror it with the other arm. "He's caused nothing but death, trouble and grief." The last was said very quietly. Clary set the weight down and wrapped her arm around Alec.

"I miss your parents and siblings too," she said softly. Alec stilled for a moment, but shook her off, lightly, and resumed the moving her arm through the exercises. She sighed. "He's my brother, Alec. And my fiancé. I loved him once."

"Once. He's not the same."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"I wasn't saying you didn't."

The physical therapy continued in silence and Clary quickly departed once it was over. The next hours were spent gathering everything for the campaign. She was making a three month campaign across the empire to help in relief efforts from the damage her brother had caused. The palace would be watched by her cousin, Tessa Herondale, a duchess, who had been around for as long as everyone could remember but still looked twenty. Tessa would make sure everything ran smoothly here as well as attend to those who still came to the complaints and relief sessions held nearly every day.

Her mind had no opportunity to stray from the task of preparing for her departure.

-Xxx-

Alexander Lightwood was reading over the prince's medical reports in his office, standing at his desk, bent over the tiny lettering. God, he needed reading glasses. That spoilt brat in the royal wing was more trouble than he was worth. He had contracted some type of blood poisoning fever from having the contaminated shrapnel shards lodged in his body for approximately three weeks, judging by the amount of scar tissue that had built up. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat in his palms.

Arms snaked around his waist from behind, warm lips pressed against the exposed length of his neck. The tension went from his back as Magnus's hands slid beneath his shirt, under his medic coat. He leaned his head back and Magnus moved his lips up to his ear.

"Why so tense, love?" Magnus whispered, kissing the cusp on his ear.

"His Highness, the prince. I can't decide if I want to kill him or salute him," Alec responded, letting his eyes close. Magnus's hands reached his chest, flattening there and pushing him back against Magnus's chest. Alec was only slightly taller than Magnus, more muscled but Magnus was toned, lithe, beautiful.

"Do you have some time to yourself?" Magnus asked, handing moving back down south.

"I have the next two hours to do paperwork," Alec said, suddenly breathless. Magnus's teeth pulled on the sensitive skin of his throat.

"Maybe I could help you relax," his husband suggested, hands deftly loosening the belt of his jeans. Alec moaned quietly as Magnus's hands reached into his underwear. The hands were soft, warm, loving as they played with him, drew his entire attention to Magnus and his hands. He was oddly good at making Alec forget about everything else. Magnus scraped his nails up and down Alec, exciting him. A soft shudder ran through him.

"I think I need it," Alec murmured, turning in Magnus's arms to press his lips against his. Magnus reacted in kind, pressing Alec back against the desk so his back dug into the edge. Alec groaned and pushed Magnus's jacket off, blind to the fact it would be rumpled later. Magnus didn't like his clothes rumpled. But he didn't seem to mind as Alec took charge of the lovely scenario and roughly tugged off Magnus's designer jeans. They pooled around his boots.

"I like it when you're controlling," Magnus murmured, letting Alec tug and nip at his neck.

"I know," Alec sighed against Magnus's neck as he left a bruise. He spun them, so Magnus was now backed against the desk and laid him down. Magnus kicked off his shoes, jeans following. Alec was hard now, and wanting. So wanting. His heart felt raw and torn, and Magnus was his healing salve. Magnus had already undone Alec's pants, and his erection was quite evident and he shoved Magnus's legs apart.

Magnus was panting, his fingers tightening in the folds of Alec's med coat, dragging him closer. His hips thrust upward and Alec wasted no time partaking in his husband. They both moaned, but it was muffled. Alec rocked his hips, feeling the tightness of Magnus, the heat and comfort. Magnus shook, hand clamping on the back of Alec's neck. He shoved Magnus's shirt up, trailing kisses down his smooth chest. Alec left marks as he pleased, feeling Magnus's skin pull taut with every thrust.

His breathing harsh, mirroring the panting of the man laid out on his desk, Alec pulled back slightly, only to grab Magnus's knees and widen them even more. He drove deeper, and Magnus cried out.

"Don't alert my whole staff," Alec chided but didn't pause in his ministrations, feeling the pleasure coil in his gut as his cock hardened further.

"They—nngh—already know why I came in here," Magnus panted hoarsely, hands finding their way beneath his coat and shirt, scoring his back. The slight prick of nails caused Alec to jerk forward, consequently causing Magnus to cry out in pleasure from the rough thrust. Alec went faster, feeling the peak of his pleasure come closer. Magnus's legs found their way around his waist and squeezed as he climaxed himself.

Now that Magnus had got his satisfaction, Alec's pace grew frantic and jerky as he released himself. He moaned loudly, mouth pressed against Magnus's chest. Alec could hear his heartbeat, matching Magnus's. The man beneath him was shaking with aftershocks, of which Alec added to by slowly licking the bare nipple on Magnus's tan chest. Alec glanced up to see those intoxicating green cat eyes watching him, half-lidded with the drug of pleasure.

Alec abandoned Magnus's chest and went straight for his lips, catching them up in a sweet, lingering kiss, his body still locked inside his husband's. Magnus made a content noise as his other hand crept around the back of Alec's neck, deepening the kiss.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Magnus murmured against his lips, licking the seam of them playfully.

"You know Clary needs someone to take care of her. I can't leave her alone in her current condition, especially on a three month campaign across the empire," Alec responded slowly, after a moment of enjoying the taste of Magnus.

But he pulled back, only to concern himself with the crook between Alec's shoulder and throat. Alec shivered. "She has Lucian and Amatis," Magnus offered, not as an excuse but a valid replacement.

"It's not just a concern for a friend, Magnus," Alec said, pressing his forehead to Magnus's shoulder, letting his mouth wander. "I'm concerned as a doctor. Not only for her physical health but possibly her mental as well."

Magnus paused and pulled back, sanguine eyes watching him carefully. "Aer you saying she's unfit to rule at the moment?" Magnus sounded worried. He had every right to be. Clary was Magnus's friend as well, more like a daughter or favored niece, but the concern that there was no regent would have been his secondary concern.

Alec shook his head, going back to kissing Magnus's collarbone. "No, she's fit to rule. Her mental capacity for ruling, for rational thought is completely stable. It's like she has disassociation between the two aspects of her life, woman and ruler. And Sebastian presents a very worrying blurring of that line. But for the most part, Clary is more fit to rule than her parents were."

Magnus lightly smacked his shoulder. "Respect the deceased, Alexander. It's not even been a year." Alec nodded his acknowledgement and went back to his task, body reluctantly withdrawing. "I'm going to miss you," Magnus whispered.

"I'll phone you every evening," Alec promised, laying a gentle kiss to Magnus's lips.

"You better."


End file.
